


Seven Steps

by DorthyAnn (JenniferMarie)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drama, Fluff, Frottage, Harry's horrible shitty childhood, Hogwarts Eighth Year, House Elves, M/M, Magic Theory, Melodrama, Not Epilogue Compliant, Potion Theory, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-02-22 21:20:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 35
Words: 99,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13175427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenniferMarie/pseuds/DorthyAnn
Summary: It started with just seven steps to try and win Potter's affection, but life and relationships are rarely as easy as a checklist on a piece of parchment.





	1. Chapter 1

“Pansy!” Draco pounded on the door of the girl’s dorm room.

There was a suspicious amount of silence on the other side. Draco frowned and pounded on the door harder, “Let me in, Pansy!”

Draco had scared several first years into telling him if they had seen her, so he knew she was in there. He took a deep breath, projecting his voice as loudly as he could, “That's a shame, I'll just have to jump off the tower and you'll mourn me forever for what could have-”

The door clicked open with a snarled, “Get in here, you horrid nuance!”

Draco stepped inside, slamming the door shut behind him and throwing himself across the end of Pansy’s bed.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Pansy snapped, moving a floating bottle of metallic green nail lacquer closer to herself, “You’re saying you nearly ruined my nails just so you could have a hissy fit?” She carefully splayed her fingers out in front of herself to check for smudges, her dressing gown falling open to show an uninterested world her bra and knickers.

Draco turned his head to looked at his best friend with a sneer, “It’s not a hissy fit. It’s a matter of life or death you cow.”

Pansy rolled her eyes, “Whose death then?”

“Mine, of course,” Draco said.

She snorted, “No one important then.”

“What kind of friend are you?” Draco said with a frown. Pansy focused on the second coat of nail polish rather than appreciate his doleful expression, so Draco turned his face into the bedspread and groaned.

“The kind that puts up with you,” Pansy said with a self-satisfied tone, “I should get a medal. It’s practically community service.”

“I hate you,” Draco muttered into the smooth satin.

“You love me.” Pansy blew gently on her nails and asked, “What is it then?”

Draco flushed, turning his head to look at the opposite wall, “I’m afraid I’ve developed… an affection for Potter.”

“For a second, I thought you were going to say ‘infection’ and quite frankly that would have been far more interesting,” Pansy said.

Draco shot up onto his elbows, staring at Pansy in outrage, “How is  _that_ more interesting than the most devastating revelation of my life?”

Pansy stared at him flatly, one eyebrow twitching up, “You managed to outlive _the dark lord_ , you melodramatic idiot. How in the world does wanting to fuck hero-boy even _rank_.”

“I occasionally thought I would  _survive_ the dark lord,” Draco said, slumping back onto the bed.

“And you think a crush on Potter’s going to kill you?” Pansy asked with an amused smile.

“Slowly and painfully.”

Pansy tsked and rolled her eyes again.

Draco said, “I tried ignoring it, hoping it would go away but it wouldn’t.”

“It?” Pansy asked.

“The _feelings_ , Pansy. Do keep up,” Draco said ignoring her third eye roll, “I haven’t even the slightest chance with him.”

Pansy raised an eyebrow, carefully painting her pinky finger, “How do you know? Have you told him you fancy him?”

“I can’t do that!” Draco said in utter shock. He flipped over onto his back, ignoring Pansy’s muttered curse as the movement made the brush slip. “He fancies girls for one, and we’ve hardly been on friendly terms the last seven years.”

“There’s such a thing as being bisexual, darling,” Pansy said, carefully charming the nail polish off her cuticle.

“Doubtful. The rest of my argument still stands,” Draco said.

Pansy sighed, putting the bottle of polish away and blowing on her nails, “You ought to at least try. If for no other reason than I can’t abide hearing you whinge on about your stupid feelings for the rest of the year. I’ve always felt you two were either going to murder or fuck one another and since the murdering thing didn’t work out-” Pansy shrugged.

“Try? I don’t even know how to try,” Draco muttered, sliding his hands over his head, “How in the world do I even begin to talk to  _Potter_  of all people.”

“With some sort of manual, I would think,” Pansy said.

Draco sat up abruptly, “What do you mean by that?”

“That you have never talked to Potter normally once in your entire life. If you were hoping for an actual manual you are quite out of luck,” Pansy said with a look.

Draco didn’t show the disappointment on his face.

Pansy smirked anyway, “At this rate, it would be like trying to break a dog of a ten-year habit. I’m fairly certain McGonagall would frown on me hitting you with a rolled up newspaper every time you insult Potter.”

“Cliched and subtle as a Gryffindor,” Draco said.

Pansy sighed, “I was trying to be funny, as you well know.”

“You ought to try harder next time,” Draco smirked.

Pansy’s lips thinned, and Draco knew if she wasn’t worried about her nails she would have smacked him.

“But some guidelines or rules would be useful,” Draco said.

Pansy snorted, “Maybe. Sounds amusing.” She nodded to the small writing desk across from her bed, “Grab a piece of parchment and a quill, and we’ll write something out.”

“I have no desire to go digging through your desk of all place. Who knows what you have in there,” Draco said making a face.

“Oh yes,” Pansy mocked, “That’s where I save my menses for all the moon day rituals us girls are always sneaking out to do in secret.  _You’ve caught me out_." 

"I just don't want your stupid to rub off on me," Draco said with equal mocking. 

Pansy glared at him, "Just summon them, arsehole.”

Draco took his wand out with a beleaguered sigh, “Just spell your nails dry.”

“And ruin the finish?” Pansy said, “I’m not about to have dull nails just because you’re a spoiled brat.”

“Accio parchment and ever-inking quill,” Draco said holding out his hand to snag the quill out of the air, a scrap of parchment came fluttering after. He hesitated and then wrote a one at the top of the parchment. “So…?”

 “I believe you are the one with the feelings. I’m not going to just tell you what to do,” Pansy said, leaning back against her headboard, looking far too smug and pleased with herself.

Draco narrowed his eyes.

“Oh, don’t pout,” Pansy said waving her hand, “I’ll help. But I expect you to do most of the work. I have high hopes for how entertaining this whole endeavour will be.”

“How do I even start?” Draco huffed.

Pansy quirked an eyebrow, “Easy, with-”

Step One: Sit close to him in every class you share together.

  
  


  
  


* * *

  
  


“Wait! Wait, Draco!” Pansy called, waving her hand.

Draco stopped. He had been heading to his first class of the day, transfiguration, shared with the rest of the eighth years but most importantly, with Potter.

“What?” Draco hissed through his teeth.

Pansy caught his elbow and pulled him along down the hall. Potter and his cohort were still just in sight in front of them.

“Here,” she took his hand and quickly tied a wide grey ribbon around his wrist.

“What is it?” Draco asked suspiciously.

Pansy finished a rather hasty knot and pulled Draco’s sleeve down to hide it, “I rather inspired myself yesterday with that idea of hitting you with a newspaper.”

Draco froze, “You- What did you do?”

Pansy sighed, gripping his arm tighter and hauling him back into step, “It will allow me to administer a _very_  mild stinging hex if you should forget what we decided.”

“I am entirely capable of sitting next to someone and keeping my mouth shut,” Draco snapped.

“Not with Potter,” Pansy said.

Draco opened his mouth to protest and then closed it again.

“Exactly,” Pansy said. She let go of his arm and took a few steps ahead, “I’ll sit as close to you as I can, so make sure you get close to him.”

“Don’t tell me my own plan,” Draco said.

“And keep your mouth shut,” Pansy added, taking out her wand and twirling it in the air with a grin.

Draco sneered at her, pulling his bag higher on his shoulder as he swept past her into the classroom. Granger and Weasley were sitting next to one another, as they tended to do since becoming a couple. It was gag-worthy, but meant that Potter usually had the seat open beside him.

Draco’s heart soared into his throat as he crossed the room and went up the risers to sit beside Potter. He didn’t look at any of them, forcing himself to take out his parchment and ink as if everything were completely normal.

“What do you think you’re doing, Malfoy?” Weasley asked suspiciously.

Draco bristled and glared down the table past Potter and Granger, opening his mouth to retort when he felt a sharp sting on his wrist. His hand jerked, hitting his ink bottle and sending it rolling across the desk. Draco snatched it back up and slid the bottle back to the top corner. Pansy dumped her bag onto the desk in beside him, acting like she hadn’t even noticed him.

“Malfoy!” Weasley hissed.

Draco leaned over his bag, pretending to look for his quill.

Weasley smacked the desktop to get Draco’s attention.

“ _Ron_ ,” Granger whispered.

“Attention, please,” McGonagall said sharply, charming the chalk to begin writing the day’s lesson on the board. “Take out your books. We shall begin back on page twenty-four. ”

Draco took out his quill and dropped his bag down by his feet. Potter’s chair creaked, and Draco glanced over to find Potter watching him with a frown. Draco stared back, keeping his expression carefully blank. He couldn't tell if Potter’s frown was curious or hostile and wondered if he was overly hopeful to think the former.

Granger very pointedly cleared her throat, jabbing Potter in the side to draw his attention away from Draco. 

Draco looked down at his parchment, feeling a flush of heat fill his cheeks.

Pansy waved to get Draco's attention and then made a heart shape with her finger. He smacked her hands away with a glare that only made her snicker at him, and hurriedly started taking notes.

  
  


  
  


  
  



	2. Chapter 2

“I think you’re ready for step two,” Pansy said sliding down the leather couch and dropping her head in his lap.

Draco blanched, “It’s only been a few days.”

“And you’ve done marvellously,” Pansy said in a tone that wasn’t sincere in the slightest.

“That’s a blatant lie,” Draco said, jabbing a finger at her, “Granger was suspicious, and Weasley kept snarling at me-”

“Lucky you’re not trying to woo him then.”

Draco curled his lip in disgust, “ _ Ugh _ . Why would you inflict that idea on me?”

“Because it’s funny,” Pansy said, “True though. Don’t worry about the odd pair when it’s Potter you’re after.”

“Quieter, if you please,” Draco said, glancing anxiously around the Slytherin common room.

Pansy rolled her eyes, “Are you serious? No one is going to pay the slightest attention to  _ you  _ going on about  _ Potter _ .” She raised her hands above her head dramatically, “Potter,  _ Potter, POTTER _ !”

Draco winced and cautiously looked around again. They were just as ignored as before, though it seemed like a lot of people were rolling their eyes.

“And the fact of the matter is, Draco,” Pansy poked the bottom of his chin with a perfectly manicured fingernail, “that Potter’s reactions to you the last couple days have been nothing less than miraculous.”

Draco pushed her hand away with a frown, “He hasn’t done anything.”

“Exactly?” Pansy said in a _how dim are you_ tone of voice. “You normally fight like children as soon as you lay eyes on each other. Instead, he’s been as weirdly mute as you.”

“It’s not weird,” Draco said automatically.

Pansy stared at him flatly.

“That’s- That was the plan!” Draco snapped.

Pansy sighed, “Yes, and it’s working, but he’s going to forget you exist if you stop here and I'm getting bored. So…step two.”

Draco slouched backwards, the leather couch creaking faintly.

Pansy glared at him, “It’s not the end of the world. You just have to greet him like a normal human being.”

Draco slouched further down, crossing his arms over his chest.

Pansy pushed herself back up, “You are such a child.”

“I’m nervous,” Draco muttered.

Pansy sighed and sat next to him, matching him shoulder to shoulder, “You think I don’t know that? No one knows you better than I do.”

“Unfortunately true,” Draco agreed morosely.

Pansy snorted, “I wouldn’t have bothered if you hadn’t got your head out of your arse after- everything. You’re lucky I was willing to give you a second chance.”

“Yes, yes, I know. Must you rub it in?” Draco said.

Pansy sniffed, “For at least another year and a half I’d say. Since that’s how long you were so inconsiderate towards those that cared about you.”

“Pansy,” Draco said, shaking his head slightly, “I would have never exposed you to _him_ and the things he intended.”

Pansy smacked his leg as hard as she could.

“Fucking fuck, Pansy!” Draco jumped, rubbing his thigh, which was probably going to bruise.

“That was _my_ decision to make, not yours,” Pansy said acidly.

They sat in silence for a minute, brooding.

“In the end,” Pansy said quietly, “We… weren’t really friends before the war, not proper friends.”

“You were a bit of a cunt,” Draco said.

Pansy snickered, “And you were an unbearable arsehole.”

“I was a very _charismatic_ arsehole.”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “You’re still an arsehole, just not an unbearable one. You can be as charismatic as you want if it makes you feel better. Now about Potter.”

Draco groaned.

Pansy smiled faintly and elbowed him in the side, “Just pretend he’s not Potter. Greet him like an acquaintance, and you’ll be snogging in short order.”

“Please keep your optimism to yourself. It makes me uncomfortable,” Draco said.

Pansy glared at him and raised her hand menacingly, “I  _ will  _ hit you again.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


Step 2: Greet him in the hallways so he remembers you exist.

  
  


Draco couldn’t sleep and was running late for breakfast. He was finishing the knot of his tie on the way, not paying attention, and nearly ran into someone.

“Watch where you’re going, ferret,” Weasley snapped.

Draco hesitated, giving his rational mind just enough time to take control. He took a deep breath and stepped to the side, careful not to look directly at the Weasel and let his temper get the upper hand, “Pardon me,” he murmured.

He felt his eyes drawn to Potter’s shock of wild black hair and locked eyes with him. By Merlin’s grace, Potter’s eyes were the loveliest shade of green.

Draco swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded to Potter, “Good morning,” he said, his voice mostly steady and quickly stepped past them into the great hall.

He moved quickly, hoping to outpace the growing heat on his cheeks, sitting at the end of the Slytherin table. He tossed a few pieces of toast on his plate and picked up the teapot.

“What was that?”

Draco jumped, tea sloshing out over his plate and soaking his toast. Draco frowned at the mess and carried the frown up to Potter. Potter glared back at him, one hand braced on the end of the table.

“Seriously, Malfoy, what are you doing?” Potter demanded.

Draco wasn’t sure if this was against the rules of their plan but was fairly certain silence would only infuriate Potter. “Breakfast.” He looked down at his soggy plate and vanished the ruined toast.

“Not that. What’s with you? By the door?” Potter gestured back to the entrance.

Draco picked up a fresh piece of toast and deliberately set it on his plate so he would have something to look at other than Potter. He did his best to respond as if Potter were a ministry official or his solicitor, “It’s polite to greet someone you know.”

“Then in class lately,” Potter went on with another sudden gesture.

Draco felt a flutter of anxiety in his gut, “Yes?” he asked, picking up the neglected teapot and filling the cup in front of himself.

“You’ve been sitting next to me!” Potter said.

Draco’s stomach clenched, he held his breath, “Am I bothering you?”

Potter hesitated, his brow furrowing. He looked down the table and was suddenly aware that all of Slytherin was staring at him, along with most of the school. He took a step back, “We’ll finish this later,” he said quietly and stomped out of the hall, a storm of whispers following in his wake.

Draco breathed out.

He had no idea what he would have done if Potter had said yes. If he couldn't even get close to Potter, the plan was over. He wasn't certain if it had even begun. There was no way it could come to fruition. It was just a way to get this silly crush out of his system.

“Move.” Pansy said impatiently to the second year sitting next to Draco, “Take your plate and go. Hurry up; I haven’t got all day,” she waved her hand, almost sitting on the twelve-year-old trying to scramble out of her way.

“Did you hear everything?” Draco asked.

“Everyone did. Potter wasn’t exactly subtle, not that he ever has been,” Pansy said, taking a handful of grapes and popping one in her mouth. With her free hand, she dropped a cube of sugar and a dollop of cream into Draco’s cup and dragged it closer to him in a rattle of wood on china, “Drink.”

“I don’t-” Draco protested.

“-feel like it. I don’t care. You’ll drink your tea and have some toast, two or three slices,” Pansy plucked two more slices of toast and dropped them on his plate, “You’ll be whining about being starving halfway through charms, and we both know it.”

Draco knew if his anxiety got the better of him he might lose his appetite for the rest of the day. Still, he took a few bites and washed it down with a sip of tea.

“It’s not as bad as it seems,” Pansy said, popping another grape into her mouth.

Draco sulkily chewed on the edge of his toast, “It seems quite bad.”

“You would think that,” Pansy said, utterly unimpressed, “but Potter wasn’t angry. Impatient and annoyed, maybe suspicious but at least he wasn’t angry, and that is an improvement.”

“An improvement,” Draco repeated flatly.

Pansy threw a grape at his head and missed quite badly, “When you’re starting at the bottom of the shit pit, covered in shit, anything is an improvement.”

“You’re disgusting,” Draco said, trying not to smile.

Pansy smirked with pleasure, “Thank you. Now finish your fucking toast.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


_After Class_ , the note read in Potter's messy scrawl. Draco took the little scrap of parchment from the edge of his desk and carefully hid it under his notes. He turned back to his parchment, writing down everything the Professor said to keep his mind busy.

He packed up immediately after class and made his way down the hallway, feeling a small sense of satisfaction to hear Potter scrambling after him.

“Malfoy!  _Malfoy_!” Potter snapped as he caught up, “Didn’t you see my note?!”

“I did,” Draco said smoothly.

“Why didn’t you wait?” Potter said still trying to shove his crumpled class notes into his bag.

Draco just barely managed to keep from rolling his eyes, “I’m afraid your little scrap didn’t include those instructions. In fact, it included no relevant information what-so-ever.”

Potter huffed and grabbed Draco by the elbow, jerking him into a nearby room.

Draco stumbled and was only  _just_  able to collect himself by the time Potter closed and locked the door behind them. “Ominous,” Draco muttered, looking around the dusty room, “Not where I would have chosen.”

“You can pick next time, then,” Potter said sarcastically, dropping his bag on the floor.

Draco quirked a brief smile, he was a great fan of Potter’s sarcasm.

“Look, Malfoy, just tell me what you’re up to, alright?” Potter said.

Draco raised an eyebrow, “Nothing nefarious.” He hesitated and looked away, “It’s not a repeat of sixth year. I can give you my word on that.”

He glanced over to see Potter swallowing hard, his expression frozen. Draco was glad though, in an unpleasant, bitter sort of way, that sixth year still affected Potter after everything else that had happened.

Potter cleared his throat roughly, “Ron thinks you’re planning to trick me, like the bit with the dementor costume in third year and Hermione thinks you’re trying to get close to me to help your reputation.”

“What reputation? No. And no,” Draco said.

Potter nodded in agreement.

After a pause, Draco asked, “And what do you think, Potter?”

Potter stared at him with a faint frown like he wasn’t quite sure of the answer himself. He opened his mouth and then closed it, his brow furrowing. He caught Draco watching him, and the furrow deepened. “I- Has someone put you up to it? Are you being-” he hesitated, “-harassed?”

The answer left Draco feeling cold and inexplicably sad. He should have known better than to hope. “No,” he said, his voice sounding flat and hollow in his own ears.

“It’s not just about you, I’m not trying to save you or anything- it’s just not right. Not after the war and everything,” Potter said with that set in his jaw that meant he really truly believed it.

"So noble," Draco sighed, "But still no. I’m sure even you wouldn’t begrudge the occasional dark look and muttered word. But to assuage your unending desire to save the world, I haven’t been cursed, assaulted or blackmailed.”

“I’m not trying to the save the world- or you,” Potter said pointedly.

"I know that quite well," Draco said faintly. He walked over to the door, untangling Potter’s hasty locking spell with a wordless counter-charm and grasped the handle.

Potter put his hand against the door, pressing just hard enough to slow Draco down, “Where are you going?”

Draco raised an eyebrow.

“Just- tell me,” Potter said.

“Where would be the fun in that?” Draco said.

Potter gawped at him.

Draco took a step out and hesitated, turning back for just a second, “But feel free to bring me any more theories you might come up with so I can tell you that you’re wrong.”

“I- wait!” Potter called, snatching up his bag and following after him.

Draco pulled his bag higher onto his shoulder and hurried down the hallway, stepping onto the stairs just as they began to move. He heard Potter come up just a little too late followed by a string of curses. He didn’t look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!! I hope you like it so far♡♡♡


	3. Chapter 3

“ _Here_  you are.”

The curtains around Draco’s four-poster were jerked open.

“You skipped dinner," Pansy said.

Draco muttered something back; the words lost to the blankets he had pressed his face into.

“Did you go to class?”

The sound that rose from Draco was somewhere between a groan and the last dying breath leaving a corpse.

Pansy sighed loudly, “… let’s talk like adults, shall we?”

A shoe was firmly pressed into Draco’s side, and he quickly rolled onto his side to avoid having his lung punctured by a kitten heel.

Draco glared up at Pansy.

Pansy rolled her eyes and dropped onto the bed, “Dinner?”

“No.”

“Class?”

“ _Of course_.”

“Potter?”

Draco groaned and tried to roll back onto his stomach.

Pansy jabbed him in the side making him recoil, “Tell me what happened.  _All_  of it,” she said, “but speak slowly so I can translate the bullshit.”

Draco grabbed his pillow and hugged it to his chest as he told Pansy about the meeting with Potter.

Pansy stared at him after he had finished and finally shrugged, “So?”

“I thought you were listening!” Draco said in outrage.

Pansy shrugged again, “Understanding your drama is an art, not an arithmantic equation.”

Draco glared at her but his expression quickly dissolved into despair, “He thought I was  _bullied_  into it, Pansy. He’d rather save anyone on in the world than me. It’s over. There’s no hope.”

“If it were me I would have thought you were ill,” Pansy said. She paused and then laughed, “Oh, wait! I already thought that!”

Draco clutched the pillow tighter to his chest.

“Oh, don’t pout,” Pansy said, “He also said he wasn’t trying to save the world, so you’re on equal footing with just about everyone.”

“ _Pansy,_ ” Draco bemoaned

Pansy shook her head, “You’re not giving up.”

“What?”

“You’re not giving up, I’ve decided it,” Pansy said.

Draco sat up, “You can’t decide that!”

“I can, and I have,” Pansy said primly.

Draco shook his head, “Potter said-”

“I don’t care,” Pansy cut him off, “If you tell him you like him then you can give up. Otherwise, I shall assume you’re overreacting.”

“I’m not overreacting!” Draco said.

“That remains to be seen,” Pansy said, “Tomorrow you’ll start step three.”

Draco stiffened, “I’ve only done step two for one day!”

“It's fine. Steps two and three work well together, and you’re trying to chicken out so I might as well raise the stakes,” Pansy stood and smoothed her skirts, “I’ll make a list for you tonight.”

Draco scrambled to the edge of his bed, “Wait! Pansy, I can’t-!”

“You can,” Pansy said rolling her eyes, “You've done harder things than this, Draco Malfoy.”

Draco watched her leave in silence. Once the door was firmly shut, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a crumpled scrap of parchment with the words  _after class_  written on them. He stared at the sloppy handwriting and squeezed his pillow a little tighter to his chest.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Step 3: Begin conversations with him so you can get to know one another better.

  
  


Draco read over the list of conversation ideas Pansy had given him with a frown and shoved them in his bag. They were awful, every last one of them.

Draco had waited until he was nearly late to get to class, rather hoping that he wouldn't be able to sit next to Potter and thus save himself from having to speak to him at all. And yet, despite all the filled desks, the seat beside Potter was quite empty.

Potter was watching Draco like he had been waiting for him. His brows drew together in a silent challenge.

Draco slowly walked up the risers to the empty seat and found a bag on the bench, a bag that Potter quickly grabbed and shoved down by his feet.

“You’re late,” Potter said stiffly as Draco sat down.

Draco carefully extracted his textbook and parchment, setting them on his desk with far more care than was necessary, “Yes, well…. good morning, Potter.”

“I’m going to figure out what you’re doing,” Potter said with absolute certainty.

Draco shivered.

“I’ve figured it out before, I’ll do it again,” Potter muttered, “You’re not as clever as you think you are.”

The flaw in Potter’s logic, Draco mused, was that Draco would have been quite relieved to have been caught sixth year, even knowing the consequences. This time being found out would likely result in rejection and a horrifying amount embarrassment that he'd rather not deal with.

Draco dug through his bag looking for his quill and found Pansy's list crumpled at the bottom. He impulsively picked one of the conversation suggestions, "Do you think it's going to snow soon?" he asked as neutrally as possible.

Potter looked over at him like he’d grown a second head.

“It’s been getting colder,” Draco persisted, finding his quill, also on the bottom of his bag. He smoothed his fingers over the ragged white feather, and the inbuilt magic pulled it back together, as good as new. “As far as seasons go, I tend to prefer spring.” Draco said setting his ink at the top corner of the desk, “How do you feel… about seasons?”

Draco looked over at Potter. 

Potter stared at him in utter bewilderment.

“No preference then?” Draco said, trying not to feel foolish as he basically talked to himself, his voice dropping as he opened his book to where they had left off the day before, “There is an appeal to all seasons, I suppose.”

Potter remained silent for the entire class. Draco was fairly certain he hadn't even taken notes. He was starting to suspect that he might have broken Potter somehow, but Potter managed to pack up his bag again at the end of class, even as he lagged behind his friends, looking back at Draco twice before be even stepping out of the classroom.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The next day found Draco in much the same situation, except the class in question was double potions and sitting next to Potter meant they’d have to work together. Draco quickly looked around as he mentally panicked but there were only two open seats left. He could sit next to Potter or Justin Finch-Fletchley.

Draco sat down next to Potter with a sigh.

“What?” Potter said defensively.

“Nothing,” Draco said, “Good morning, Potter. I look forward to working with you.”

"No, you don't," Potter shot back. He paused an shook his head, "You hate working with me. Especially in potions."

Draco hummed absently in response as Slughorn came into the classroom.

“Morning!” Slughorn said jovially, “Since a few questions about the Wolfsbane potion will be on the NEWTS, I thought it would benefit you all to brew it once. Damn tricky potion. You’ll want to take your time; we’ve only enough ingredients for one go each. Page two hundred and twelve in your books. Take care not to let the aconite touch your skin! Use gloves and tongs. Feel free to ask me any questions!”

Draco watched the lazy bastard fold his hands over his stomach without any other advice or interest. He wrinkled his nose in disgust, Severus might have been vicious, but at least he was more than competent.

Potter had his book open and was reading the instructions as closely as Draco had ever seen from him. Then again, Potter's brewing proficiency in sixth year had apparently been a fluke and he needed all the help he could get.

Draco took out his brewing notebook and flipped to his notes wolfsbane, “Shall I get the ingredients or would you rather do it?” he asked.

Potter’s head jerked up from his book, and he blinked at Draco then seemed to shake himself awake, shooting his feet, “I’ll get them,” he said quickly.

Draco retrieved a silver lined pewter cauldron and started a low flame beneath.

“Malfoy,” A Weasley sort of voice hissed behind him.

Draco turned, looking at Weasley and then to Granger beside him.

The two exchanged a look that could best be summarised as  _you talk to him_.

Draco glowered at them.

Granger huffed faintly and crossed her arms, “Malfoy… we-” she glanced at Weasley who nodded encouragingly, “- we would appreciate it if you left Harry alone.”

Draco raised an eyebrow.

Granger frowned but continued, "He finally has a chance at a normal school year. Even you can understand wanting things to just be normal can't you?"

“...Yes,” Draco said warily.

Granger nodded, “Good, so, the last thing Harry needs is to be obs- worrying about you.”

“Here,” Potter dropped a tray of ingredients on the work table.

Draco jumped, his heart thundering his chest. He quickly turned back to his cauldron, scowling briefly before wiping the expression off his face.

Draco carefully examined the ingredients, “This won’t do,” he picked up the yellowish piece of bone and held it out to Potter, “Also get more aconite.”

Potter’s shoulders drew back, his eyes flashing with anger, “What? It’s perfectly fine, isn’t it? Just bone! And what’s wrong with the aconite?”

Draco bit the inside of his cheek. He said tightly, “Bone is very porous and can easily absorb trace amounts of other elements. Yellowing in this instance might mean contamination. So please find one that is white and smooth to the touch. As for the aconite, the levels of toxicity varies between the leaves, flowers and roots. This,” he pointed at the tray, “is mostly stem and root. It would work provided it was pulverised and soaked in the base overnight. We’re brewing now, so we need leaves.”

Potter took the bone, his anger mixing with embarrassment. “You could’ve said that to begin with,” he said, turning on his heel and heading back to the ingredients closet.

Draco rolled his eyes and took out his brewing gloves and carefully began preparing the ingredients on the tray, placing each onto its own square of parchment. Potter returned, and Draco held out his hand for the small piece of bone, which Potter dropped into his palm with a sour look. It was white, clean and perfect.

“Powder the aconite in the mortar and pestle,” Draco said, picking up a fine rasp and a piece of parchment.

“You can’t just-!”

Draco paused and looked over at Potter who was bristling once again.

“You’re ordering me around; you haven’t even looked at the instructions!” Potter retorted.

Draco’s hands clenched, the metal of the rasp digging into his palm. The desire to snap back at Potter was nearly overpowering. He bit the inside of his cheek and said with forced nonchalance, “My apologies. I’ve simply brewed this potion a great deal and have it memorised. I will, of course, check the instructions before we begin brewing. If you would prefer to take the lead-?”

Potter stared at him, “What?”  He sat down, looking put out and mildly disappointed for some reason. He let out a huge sigh and asked, “You brewed it enough to memorise it?”

Draco turned back to his task, “I brewed a lot of potions over the summer, but I focused on those that were the most needed.”

"You made potions for people?" Potter asked sceptically.

“Yes, Potter,” Draco said.

“I didn't think the reparations were that bad," Potter said.

Draco finished turning the bone into a fine powder and put it back on the tray, picking up the aconite leaves and mortar. “They weren’t.” He spoke slowly for the hard of thinking, “I didn't sell them. I gave them away.”

Potter blinked at him, “I hadn’t heard about that.”

“Because no one knows,” Draco rolled his eyes.

“You?” Potter’s brow furrowed, “There’s no way you would do that.”

“Because I’m a horrible person,” Draco said flatly.

“It’s just you always- whenever there’s a chance of getting attention you always- did.” Potter said.

Draco allowed himself a small bitter smile, “True. In this instance though, I had to be anonymous.”

“Why?”

“Imagine if you will, what would happen to any potion with my name attached to it?” Draco said.

"It would be tested?" Potter guessed.

"It would be thrown away," Draco said without hesitation.

Potter's brow furrowed.

Draco finished preparing all the other ingredients, took off his gloves and placed the silver and quartz stirring rod on a clean cloth on the opposite side of the cauldron.

“Can I do anything?” Potter asked.

Draco looked at him in surprise.

“I can manage,” Potter said with a stubborn lift to his chin.

Draco nodded, “I’ve laid everything out in the order I’ll be needing it. If you could hand them to me?”

“Alright,” Potter shifted his stool closer, “When I read over the potion, it didn’t seem all that difficult to me. I mean, compared to what I thought.”

“ Its difficulty comes from how quickly it has to be brewed, about twenty minutes start to finish. The more of it you brew at one time, the more volatile it is and, of course, the toxicity of the ingredients. The slightest mistake in ratios will create a poison rather than a tonic."

“A poison?” Potter said. He opened his mouth to add something and then quickly closed it.

"I didn't send people poison, Potter, I can assure you it's easy to test if the potion has been brewed properly," Draco said.

“Okay...” Potter said.

Draco cleared his throat nervously and refocused on the potion. He poured the potion base into the cauldron and brought the flame up. He stood so could see the potion better, waiting for the first bubbles to indicate a simmer. He reached for the first ingredient and found Potter already offering it out. Draco didn’t even have the time to acknowledge him, keeping focused on the potion, watching for the subtle shifts in colour and smell he knew by heart.

When he added the last ingredient, powdered moonstone, the potion gave an unpleasant glurp and turned a putrid greenish brown. Draco sat down with a sigh of relief, tossing his stirring rod to the side and turned the flame off. He pushed his hair back, gone loose and damp from the steam but it stubbornly fell back in his eyes.

Draco glanced over at Potter and found him with his chin propped on his hand, watching Draco with an unfamiliar intensely. He felt himself start to flush and blurted, “So that’s it. I hope you were paying attention.”

Potter looked from Draco down to the cauldron and shrugged, “It’s not like we have to brew it for the NEWTS, I can just ask Hermione about the questions.”

“...I see,” Draco said.

Potter leaned closer to get a better look at the potion, “That’s disgusting.”

“Yes, it is,” Draco said with a faint smile.

Potter sat back. He stared at Draco again.

Draco’s smile fell away in a wave of nerves.

Potter quickly looked down at his hands, picking distractedly at his fingernails, “Do we have to do anything else?”

“No, we just wait. The residual heat of the cauldron will make the potion more stable,” Draco said.

Potter leaned over his textbook, skimming the instructions, “It doesn’t say anything about that in here?”

"It's something I discovered in my research," Draco said proudly.

“Really?” Potter said absently, lifting his hand.

Draco grabbed Potter’s wrist.

They stared at each other in mutual shock.

Draco opened his mouth and managed, “You should clean your hands before putting them near your mouth.”

“I wasn’t going to-” Potter’s brow furrowed, “How’d you know I was-?”

Draco felt his cheek flush, “You bite your nails,” he frowned as he felt his face get even hotter, “It’s a filthy habit.”

“It’s not that bad!” Potter protested trying to jerk his hand away, “Anyway, I didn’t touch the aconite or the potion with my bare hands, so it’ll be fine.”

Draco stubbornly kept a firm grip on Potter, "It's basic safety -"

“I didn’t-”

“Do you want to end up in the infirmary again? I thought you were giving that place a rest for once-”

“It’s fine; I didn’t touch it!” Potter wrenched his hand away.

“Please,” Draco blurted, nearly biting his tongue.

Potter started badly, his eyes going wide, "What did you say?" his mouth hung open like he wanted to say something else then closed it and stood, heading to the sinks, nearly tripping in his haste. Leaving Draco to try and piece together what had just happened.

  
  


  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so very much for reading I hope you like it so far!


	4. Chapter 4

Draco walked into the Slytherin common room, looking around for Pansy and found her sitting in a chaise by one of the large lake windows. She was reading a letter with an unfortunately familiar look on her face.

Draco swept to his room, collecting the box of french truffles his mother had owled him, tossing his robes over the end of his bed and returning to the common room. He pushed Pansy’s legs over, ignoring her yelp of surprise, and sat down beside her, “Have a chocolate.” He opened the box and held it out.

Pansy glared at him briefly before her expression fell.

“What is it?” Draco asked nodding to the letter.

Pansy took a truffle and nibbled on the edge, “From my parents,” she said quietly.

“But they-”

“Threatened to disown me?” Pansy said sourly, half crumpling the letter as she shoved it between the chaise cushions.

Draco nodded.

“Apparently, they’re willing to forgive everything,” Pansy laughed bitterly.

“There’s an  _if_ , isn’t there?” Draco asked.

Pansy nodded, sucking the melted chocolate off her thumb, “Lord wherever-the-fuck still wants to honour the marriage contract.”

“Even after you told him to shove it up his arse?” Draco asked in disbelief.

Pansy took another truffle, “He likes my  _fiery spirit_ ,” she said mockingly.

Draco shook his head, “Moron.”

“A total fuckwit,” Pansy agreed.

“You’re free to stay with me for forever if you want,” Draco said, “The manor is a far cry from a french chateau but it’s not all bad.”

“It could stand to have more vineyards,” Pansy said dryly.

Draco smiled, “I’ll have Kipper plant one when school’s finished.”

“A vineyard?”

“A grapevine,” Draco said, “you never said it had to be large.”

Pansy laughed, relaxing back into the cushions, “Well, thank you.” She finished off the second truffle with a happy sigh, “I'll find some sort of work after school, I don’t intend to depend on you forever.”

Draco said, “A shame since I intend to depend on you forever.”

“Once you have Potter you can mope and whine at him,” Pansy said. She took a truffle and shoved it in his face.

Draco took the chocolate lest it end up smeared across his cheek and possibly in his hair. “I neither mope or whine and Potter is more likely to hex me than indulge me.”

“I don’t know about that, he’s such a soft touch isn’t he?” Pansy said.

“To house elves and Weasleys,” Draco said.

“As if you aren't a soft touch to house elves,” Pansy let her head fall on his shoulder, “What is it you like about him anyway?”

"He's quite fit, don't you think?" Draco said.

Pansy made a face, "I don't."

"I imagine he would be a fantastic shag," Draco went on.

" _That_ is not what I meant, Draco," Pansy said, "Tell me about the _feelings_."

“Pansy-”

“I promise I won’t tell,” Pansy said, “I’m curious. You've hated him for so long.”

Draco ate the truffle, letting it melt slowly on his tongue.

“Well?” Pansy prompted.

“Well,” Draco said, looking over at the lake window as the shadow of a mermaid swam by, “Potter is... He’s not nearly as full of himself as I always thought and probably a bit cleverer. He can be quite brave even if it's rather stupid most of the time and loyal to those he cares about. Kind as well but I'm not entirely certain that's a good thing.”

Pansy wrinkled her nose, “But you always hated how he rushed in, getting involved in things that didn’t involve him to try and help people he didn’t even know. You especially hated his hair.”

"I still do, a bit," Draco shrugged helplessly, "After the war... I couldn't hate him anymore but I couldn't stop thinking about him either. And then we came back to school and I saw him everywhere... and he seemed so lost..."

"Lost?" Pansy asked.

Draco blinked, "What? That's just... nothing."

Pansy raised an eyebrow.

"And then the annoying tit started sneaking into my dreams and other private thoughts-"

"Eww!" Pansy shoved him, "I do not want to know about that!"

Draco laughed.

"Tell me what happened with Potter today," Pansy prompted.

Draco told her in as much detail as he could manage, his cheeks getting hot all over again. When he looked down at her, Pansy was wearing a pleased smile.

“So?” Draco asked, “Do you think it went well?”

“I do,” Pansy said. Her smile widened knowingly, “You should definitely say please to Potter more often.”

Draco frowned faintly, “You think that was important?”

“Absolutely.”

“…I suppose you think I should move to the next step now?” Draco asked reluctantly.

Pansy shrugged one shoulder, “Maybe. Wouldn't want to strain yourself with the effort.”

“You’re such a cow,” Draco said, jostling her with his arm.

Pansy just laughed.

* * *

  
  


Draco woke early, and for once he actually felt well rested. He resisted the urge to close his eyes for five or ten minutes more forced himself to get ready, wrapping himself in warming charms to keep out the dungeons chill. There was a feeling in the air, something sharp and bright, when he came to the first window above ground he saw what it was- snow, the first of the year.

Draco headed to the great hall, his eyes pulled to every window he passed. When he finally reached the hall, with only a few students filling the large tables, he walked past, going to the doors and stepping outside. His breath came out in great white clouds as he went down a few steps, his feet sinking into the whisper of snow as he looked up at the sky

The snow was falling fast, in great fluffy clumps, obscuring the forest in the distance into a green shadow. Draco pulled his robes tighter around himself and reinforced his warming charms.

He used to love the snow as a child. It was very rare in Wiltshire. It only fell a few times a year and rarely lasted more than a day before melting. As soon as it started he would grab his cloak and boots and rush outside to stare up at the sky until his mother came and fetch him back inside.

Then school started and it was like his parent's parties with everyone watching and whispering. Gossip flowed like champagne and to step even slightly out of line was to be the focus of mockery and ridicule. They weren't just themselves anymore, they represented their parents and their parent's expectations, expectations Draco always seemed to fall short of.

Even with his friends Draco never felt safe being totally himself. Except around Pansy, who was a little too loud and a little too rude and a little too girly and so he felt safe being a little bit himself as well. Now- Now he didn’t have to be anyone but himself.

There was a faint noise behind him. Draco turned but saw nothing but the closed door. Until he glanced down and saw the second pair of footprints that stopped just a step behind him.

“Potter?” Draco said, staring at the empty space where the footprints might connect to a face.

There was a sigh and Potter pulled a silvery cloak off himself and shoved it unceremoniously in his pocket. “How did you know?” he asked.

Draco pointed down.

Potter looked at the footprints, “ _fuck_.”

“Were you… following me?” Draco asked, disbelief creeping into his tone.

“No! Of course not!” Potter snapped too quickly, “I just saw you going outside and thought you might be-”

Draco narrowed his eyes, “So you  _were_  following me.”

“No, I-” Potter frowned at him, “What are you doing out here anyway?!”

Draco thought of a myriad of answers all ending with  _you stupid moron_ , but confined himself to the truth, “I was looking at the snow.”

Potter’s frown deepened, “Why?”

“Because I like it?”

“I’ve never seen you looking at the snow before,” Potter said suspiciously.

Draco raised an eyebrow, “And I suppose you know what I like and dislike better than I do?”

Potter shifted his weight and Draco was almost entirely certain that Potter was  _embarrassed_.

“Fine,” Potter said testily, “I have something to say to you anyway.”

“Go on then,” Draco said nobly.

Potter looked away, across the Black Lake, a rather sulky expression on his face, “My favourite season is fall because it’s when I got to come back to Hogwarts….” his voice dropped to a grumble, “And my favourite colour is green, like my eyes because it reminds me of my mum.”

Draco’s first thought was that this was a trap… somehow. Probably not Potter’s idea with how reluctant he was, it seemed more like a Granger idea. He would have to work out the rest later, he supposed. Pansy would have some ideas.

“I see,” Draco said with a nod, he took a deep breath and added, “That’s my favourite colour as well, except it has nothing to do with your mother.”

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Potter snapped.

Draco didn’t bother pointing out it wasn’t an insult.

Potter turning on his heel and stomping up the stairs, yelling over his shoulder, “And I wasn’t following you!”

Draco gave him a lazy wave, “Good morning to you too, Potter.”

The door thunked closed and Draco turned back, looking back up at the sky one more time before he went in for breakfast. He couldn’t quite stop himself from smiling.

Step Four: Compliment him, if you can manage

* * *

  
  


“So you think-”

“It’s absolutely a trap,” Pansy said, filling her plate with fruit and toast.

Draco nodded, “Yes, but what kind?”

“They’ve already thought you’re pulling a trick-” Pansy ticked up a finger, “trying to boost your reputation,” she ticked another finger, “and Potter thought someone put you up to it, so it probably wouldn’t be any of those. But it would be based on something you’ve done before.”

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you?” Draco asked.

“Of course I am, it’s fun,” Pansy said.

Draco placed a few pieces of bacon on a slice of toast, “Do you think, they think, I’m going to spread the information?”

“Ooo!” Pansy said around a mouthful of strawberry, “That’s it!”

“Is it?” Draco asked with amusement, “Didn’t your mother tell you not to talk with your mouth full?”

“My mother’s a cunt.”

Draco nearly choked on his toast. He leaned over the table caught between laughing and coughing until he was red in the face. Pansy finally took pity and cast an  _anapneo_  on him to clear his lungs.

“I’ll bet they think you’re going to go to the Prophet,” Pansy said once she was certain he was listening to her, “You’ve done it before, telling Skeeter a load of garbage, spreading rumours.”

“I was such a little shit, wasn’t I?” Draco said, taking a large gulp of pumpkin juice to soothe his poor throat.

“Was?” Pansy raised an eyebrow. She stabbed a chunk of pineapple with her fork, “The bigger issue at hand, Draco, is that your very clever compliment might have been far too clever for Potter. It’s not worth the trouble if he can’t figure it out and he’s not terribly quick on the uptake from what I’ve seen.”

Draco felt himself start to flush and huffed, “What was I supposed to say?”

“I like your eyes,” Pansy said flatly.

“I would rather die.”

Pansy snorted, “You just might- die alone that is.”

“You wound me,” Draco said pressing a hand to his chest.

Pansy laughed, “You’re a cunt as well.”

* * *

  
  


Draco headed into the library, slipping through the shelves and beelining for the potions section. A New Age of Potions had just been acquired by Madam Pince but had been immediately checked out before he had a chance to look at it. Draco had made a habit of checking the shelves every day to see if it had been returned.

He ran his fingers along the spine of the books as he scanned their titles.

“So wait- what did he say  _exactly_?”

Draco froze at the sound of the familiar voice. After a second of indecision, he peered around the end of the shelf.

“Exactly?” Potter sighed and pushed a hand through his unruly hair, “Err, it was- I said the thing about my eyes and he said something like- that was his favourite colour as well but had nothing to do with my mother.”

“So he was a tit as usual,” Weasley said.

“…I don’t know,” Granger said slowly, setting her bag on the nearest table and pulling it open.

“I still can’t believe your favourite colour is green.” Weasley sighed, “It ought to be red or- Or Cannon’s orange!”

Madam Pince hissed at him to be quieter.

Draco pressed tighter to the side of the bookcase.

Granger tried again, “I think maybe-”

Potter sighed, “Come on, mate, no one likes orange that much. I bet even the Cannons don’t.”

“ _Listen_ ,” Granger said, as she pulled four massive books out of her rather small bag and smacked them on the table.

“Hush!” Madam Pince said.

Granger glared at Potter and Weasley. “Listen for a second,” she said quietly, “Harry, it almost sounded like Malfoy said his favourite colour was the colour of your eyes.”

Draco's breath caught in his throat and he forgot he was hiding, leaning past the edge of the shelf to try and see how Potter would react.

Potter’s eyes widened and he stared at her frozen.

“UGH,” Weasley groaned and grabbed his chest, “Don’t say things like that, you’re going to give me palpitations.” He froze and grabbed Granger’s arm, “Blimey! My mum says that- my  _mum_! I’m turning into my mum!”

Granger rolled her eyes, handing Weasley the stack of books, "Your mum is great, Ron. Return these for me, would you?"

Weasley took the books over to the counter with a wounded look.

“Maybe I was wrong about Malfoy?” Granger said, “I guess we have to see if he does anything with the information you told him first.”

Potter dropped his head slightly, still looking dazed.

Draco stepped back behind the shelf before Weasley could spot him as he came back. He chewed on his bottom lip, wondering what Potter had thought.

“Hey, wanna go out today?” Weasley asked.

Granger huffed, “We need to do revisions.”

“It’s our precious day off, come on Mione!” Weasley whined.

“We could split it up, I suppose,” Granger offered, “We can study until lunch then go to Hogsmeade to eat and relax for an hour or two.”

“Can we study up in the common room?” Weasley asked.

"As long as you actually focus," Granger said, picking up her bag.

Their voices began to fade and Draco stepped around the bookshelf.

Potter lagged a step behind and as Draco watched, he looked back, and their eyes meeting for just a moment. Potter quickly looked away, hurrying to catch up with his friends and left Draco with his heart pounding in his chest so hard it ached.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

Draco didn’t see much of Potter that weekend. During meals, Potter hardly looked at him, and when Draco did catch him looking, he immediately ducked his head or looked at his friends.

Monday, Draco was walking behind Potter on the way to class and called out a greeting. Potter’s shoulders tensed, but he didn’t reply or even look back. When Draco came into potions, he found Potter had chosen to partner with Boot. Walking into charms later that day, Potter was sitting snugly between Weasley and Granger, so apparently engrossed in his textbook he didn’t even glance up.

“He’s avoiding me,” Draco said, dropping his bag on the floor next to Pansy’s chair in the Slytherin common room.

Pansy looked up from her notes, suppressing a sigh, “So, Potter then the transfiguration paper?”

Draco slumped into a chair. He took out his books and a pile of notes, his mouth pressing into a thin line, “There's nothing to talk about. It's done,” he said flatly.

Pansy frowned faintly, “Draco-”

“He’s avoiding me,” Draco repeated. His tone wavered, “I can’t- I can’t force him to-” his throat went tight, and he clenched his hands.

Pansy stared at him and then her expression slowly fell, “Oh-  _Draco_. I didn’t think this was  _serious_. You really...care about him?”

Draco turned his head away, “Can you not be a bitch right now?”

“I’m getting there,” Pansy snapped. She took a deep breath, “I mean you have to admit, this is- was just like when you had a crush on Blaise and then Theo.”

“That was entirely different,” Draco muttered, careful not to meet her gaze.

Pansy scrunched up her nose, “The level of melodrama was the same.”

“There was no- is-” Draco stopped and sighed, picking up his notes and flipped through the sheets of parchment until he found a clean one, “Let’s just… work.”

Pansy reached over and squeezed his arm, “The paper isn’t due for a week, would you rather drink fire whiskey until we pass out?”

Draco smiled faintly against his will, “I would love that, but I need to get all my assignments done before the week of the full moon.”

“The full-? Oh,” Pansy tsked, “I forgot you’re still doing that. Blech,” she rolled her eyes and grabbed her books. “At least it will keep you busy, so you don’t have to think about him. He’s not worth it, you know.”

Draco gave her a look, “He’s  _Harry Potter_.”

“He’s a moron with bad hair and even worse luck,” Pansy paused, a frown turning into a deep glower, “I don't want you to like him. I thought you just wanted to fuck him and that would be the end of it. Not this-ugh, I _hate_  it.”

Draco picked up his quill and smoothed the feather with his fingers.

“"Merlin, really it's just- it's not fair,” Pansy went on, “You risk so much. He’s not going to lose anything; he’s not the one that’s going to get hurt,  _you are_.”

“I know,” Draco said softly, "I knew that from the begining."

“He never even apologised for sixth year. You almost died.”

“I was going to crucio him-”

“Like that’s even close to the same thing!” Pansy snapped, “Students were lining up to take punishment from you in seventh year-”

Draco flinched and his quill bent in his hands.

“-you could barely cast the stupid spell, it was like being tickled with a feather compared to the Carrows doing it!” Pansy went on.

“Pansy,” Draco said, “I was furious with Potter. It wasn’t going to be like seventh year.”

“Still not the same,” Pansy sniffed. “If nothing else, crucio doesn’t make you bleed out.”

The quill snapped.

“Oh-  _fuck_ ,” Pansy uncurled Draco’s clenched hand and took the broken quill from him, “I’m sorry Draco. I meant to be upset for you, not to upset you. ...I'm still so bad at this sort of thing.”

“I’m fine,” Draco said, looking blankly at the fading red line across his palm.

Pansy gave him a look as she repaired his quill.

"I will be,” Draco insisted.

Pansy silently passed his quill back over and looked at her book, flipping forward a page and then back. “If he hurts you again, I’m going to kill him,” she said abruptly.

Draco shook his head slightly“You can’t kill him. I need you, and you’re of no use to me in Azkaban.”

“Then I won’t get caught,” Pansy said flippantly, “I’ll kill him the muggle way, with my bare hands. Then there won’t be a magic trace.”

Draco smiled faintly, “And then? There’s still the body.”

“I’ll feed it to the giant squid,” Pansy said.

“Ah, the perfect plan,” Draco said flatly.

Pansy nodded, “Of course it is, I thought it up. Now, what was this stupid paper meant to be about?”

“Two feet on how to manipulate approximate intelligence in transfigured objects,” Draco said, flipping ahead in his textbook

“Because knowing how to make your talking teacup more clever is very important,” Pansy said sarcastically,“ What is this, the middle ages?”

“A little past that, I think,” Draco said.

“Brilliant,” Pansy said flatly.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Draco was high in the air on a broom, the Hogwarts pitch below him was green with spring.

“Ready?” Potter asked at his side.

Draco nodded, already looking for the snitch, and spotted it immediately down by the centre ring. He leaned forward, and his broom sped towards it effortlessly. He was certain Potter was right behind him but before he could think to look back the snitch was in front of him. He reached out and snatched it from the air.

When he looked up from his hand, he saw Potter slowly flying over to him with a brilliant smile. The wind had whipped up his hair into a beautiful mess of curls, and his green eyes shone with delight.

“That was brilliant, Draco,” Potter said stopping right next Draco, their thighs pressing together.

It was a dream.

Draco could already feel himself waking up and desperately clung to the image of how Potter was looking at him. He wanted to reach out and touch him, to brush his hair back and cup his cheek. He wanted to-

Draco opened his eyes. He muttered bitterly under his breath, patting the mess of rumpled blankets around him until he found his wand and turned off its horrid shrill alarm. He cast lumos and checked his watch under the faint blue light. Four minutes past midnight.

Draco straightened his rumpled robes and pulled on his shoes, grabbing his brewing case as he slipped past empty unmade beds and dressers gathering cobwebs to the door. The common room was empty, lit only by a flickering dying fireplace. He cast a disillusionment spell over himself and stepped out into the hallway, quickly making his way down into the deepest parts of the dungeons.

He ran his free hand along the wall, counting the doors he passed until he came to the seventh. The feel of the wood under his hand was the only sign a door was hidden by the illusion of a stone wall. He pulled it open just wide enough to slip through and step inside. Draco hadn’t bothered with more complicated wards and protections. It was far easier to cover everything in a thick layer of dust than to try and hide it. He wasn’t doing anything wrong. He just didn’t trust anyone else to believe that.

Draco cast a cleaning spell over the room and charmed lights along the ceiling overhead. It was a small room, with two tall brewing tables and a sink in the corner. He pulled off the cloth covers on the two small iron cauldrons lined with silver.

He set his brewing case down and began preparing the ingredients, one at a time, using weights and measures so every potion would be the same, each ingredient set on a small square of parchment. The aconite took the longest, he always tested the potency every time he brewed. The plants from the manor’s greenhouses didn’t tend to vary in toxicity but he wasn’t about to risk brewing a bad batch. Complacency lead to mistakes and mistakes cost lives; it had been one of Severus’ favourite admonishments.

Draco checked and double checked everything before he lit a fire under the first cauldron. He cracked the door open so the potion fumes wouldn’t build up and make him feel ill. As he poured the base his mind quieted. He fell into the familiar rhythm of brewing, each ingredient added with care as he watched bubbling mixture, breathing deeply through his nose as the smell changed, becoming sharp and bitter then mellowing into something earthy as the final ingredient was stirred in.

He dispelled the fire and left the potion to stabilise, stepping over to the next cauldron, to start the second potion, and once he finished it, the first potion would be ready to decant, he could clean the cauldron and start the third potion which would lead to the next and the next.

Draco uncorked the potion base and paused, looking around the room. A feeling of unease grew as he sat the potion base back down, his eyes settling on the door. He had left it open but had he left it that far open?

Draco stepped closer to the wall, slipping his wand from his sleeve, the point swirling and lifting as he opened his mouth to cast  _homenum revelio_ -

“ _Expelliarmus_!”

Draco’s wand jerked free of his hand as he startled backwards, jamming his hip against the table. His wand hit the wall with a clatter and rolled back in front of his feet. Draco watched its progress with a scowl, his side throbbing dully in pain, hot anger filling his gut.

“Stalking again, Potter?” Draco said coldly, “Nothing ever changes.”

“I didn’t- It was just- just-” Potter stammered.

“Get out.”

“-instinct,” Potter finished lamely.

Draco clenched his jaw, “I said,  _get out_.”

Potter was standing pressed against the wall next to the door; his invisibility cloak clutched against his chest. He had lowered his arm, but the tip of his wand still pointed at Draco, ready to cast. “What are you doing down here?”

“It doesn’t concern you,” Draco said.

“You’re up to something, everything lately-" Potters voice rose with every word, "-the being friendly and saying nice things and even though I told you those things, you haven’t  _done_  anything with the information,  _and now_  you’re brewing a lot of  _something_  in the  _middle of the night_  and  _why haven’t you pick up your wand_!?” he yelled, his wand rising a few inches, his grip tight enough to whiten his knuckles.

Draco looked up from Potter’s hand and said, with such bitterness the words felt like acid etched into his tongue, “So I can be  _cut_  by you again? I think not.”

Potter flinched, his eyes widening in momentary shock before anger took hold, “What’re you doing down here?! What are you brewing?! Because if-”

“ _Wolfsbane!_ ” Draco shouted, banging his fist on the table, “If you paid  _any_  attention in class you’d know that!”

“That was-” Potter’s brow furrowed, “You said you only brewed it this summer!”

“Yes, because people just stop being werewolves when Hogwarts is in session,” Draco snarled sarcastically.

Potter shook his head, raising his wand higher, “ _Wrong_ , the ministry provides free wolfsbane. Hermione fought for it for months.”

Draco closed his eyes, fuck he wanted to break Potter’s stupid nose all over again, or shake some sense into him, “But she didn’t get rid of the  _registry_  and, she didn’t  _change people’s minds_  and maybe someone might have a job they don’t want to  _lose_  or are married and don’t want their spouse’s family to force them to  _choose_  between the marriage and them and  _MAYBE_  there are parents who don’t want their  _little girl_  on a register that will  _ruin her life!_ ”

“How-? Why did they come to  _you!_?”

“They didn't,” Draco said flatly. The anger which had felt hot and bright and  _good_  in its fervour drained away and left a leaden weight of dread at the base of his skull, “Greyback liked to bite people, children especially, and then go back and see if they would turn and kill their own families. He liked to talk about it, especially if it made you uncomfortable.”

Potter looked ashen which served him right.

Draco took a shaky breath. He noticed he was squeezing his left forearm and forced himself to let go. “I was the one that approached them about what they might need.”

“And they just-” Potter bit back the rest of his words though they were easy enough to guess.

Draco turned back to his work table, picking up two vials and placing them in stands, a funnel in each one, and carefully filled them with his first potion. “They took a potion brewed by an ex-death eater? Obviously. They were desperate and, surprisingly, are also not dead. If you’re done, I have a lot of work to do.”

“I- I... didn't mean to...” Potter said weakly.

Draco heard the door open and then close as Potter left. Draco corked the potions, ignoring how badly his hands were shaking. He allowed himself, just briefly, to rest his elbows on the table and press his hands over his face. Then he pulled himself together, picked up his wand and the potion base and got back to work.

  
  



	6. Chapter 6

“There you are. I thought you might skip breakfast,” Pansy said as Draco sat down next to her in the great hall.

Draco grabbed the pot of tea, dropping three lumps of sugar in his mug as he filled it to the brim, “Never worth it,” he muttered.

“Uhuh,” Pansy said absently, “Got all your potions owled out on time?”

“Don’t act like you care,” Draco said.

“I care!” Pansy smacked his arm, “I think it’s stupid, but I care because you care.”

Draco rolled his eyes.

“And it’s only stupid because you're brewing in the middle of the night,” Pansy said.

“Hush,” Draco hissed, glancing down the table.

“Hush yourself. People still sit as far away from us as humanly possible; the table’s not full enough for eavesdroppers,” Pansy said with a huff and tossed her hair, “I just don't understand why you can't brew them right after dinner or even in the morning.”

“Morning doesn’t give me any spare time if I make a mistake and night makes the time frame too tight,” Draco said, sipping tentatively at the edge of his cup.

“Thirty hours right? That’s how long the potion lasts, and they have to take it before dusk. There’s plenty of time-”

Draco frowned, “The potency begins decaying at a rate of-”

“Not enough to matter.”

“It might. What if I’ve brewed it poorly or-”

Pansy snorted, “ _You_ , brew poorly? Fuck off. You're such an anal-retentive arsehole, you couldn’t brew poorly if-”

“Complacency leads to mistakes and mis-”

“ _Ugh_ , gag me with a spoon.”

Draco frowned in confusion, utterly losing his train of thought, “What is that supposed to mean?”

Pansy shrugged, “I heard some muggleborns say it.”

“Gag me with a spoon?” Draco said wrinkling his nose.

Pansy turned away, “I like it.”

“Of course you do,” Draco muttered.

“You-” whatever Pansy was going to say cut off abruptly as she stared at something across the room.

Draco followed her line of sight.

“Oh, it’s not-" Pansy said quickly waving her hands, “it’s nothing. It’s just- fucking fuck."

It was Potter. And he looked like shit.

Pansy sighed in defeat, resting her elbows on the table, “Do you suppose he’s ill? Might die on his own, maybe?”

Draco thought it looked like Potter hadn’t slept. Draco had been planning to tell Pansy what had happened last night, but if Potter was intent on torturing himself, Draco hardly needed to sic her on him. Not that Draco wouldn’t try and even the score himself. Just because Potter had a jawline that practically begged to licked didn't mean Draco wouldn't get some sort of revenge.

Draco picked up his tea, refocusing his efforts on getting as much sugar into his bloodstream as humanly possible, “Potter’s like a cockroach, it takes more than that to kill him.”

Pansy hummed in agreement, “True.”

* * *

  
  


“Uh, Malfoy?”

Draco nearly stopped in his tracks before realising that that was the worst idea imaginable. The halls were emptying, and classes would be starting soon, such as his ancient runes class which he was not going to be late to. In addition, there was the very small, insignificant detail that if Draco was alone with Potter for even a single second the world might end so he picked up his pace.

“Wait!” Potter called, running to catch up.

Draco tensed, gripping the sides of his robes like a lifeline and looking straight ahead.

“I just want to talk, nothing else,” Potter said, appearing in Draco’s peripheral vision, “Even- Look, here-”

Potter grabbed Draco’s arm pulling it to him and Draco felt him press something into his palm, smooth wood-

Draco stopped walking, staring at his hand in shock. A wand. Potter’s wand- He had- Potter had  _given him his wand_.

“It’s like a show of good faith?” Potter said, “So I won’t- you know.”

Draco curled his fingers over the worn wood, feeling out the little scratches, the smooth spots Potter touched the most, and the hum magic against his skin. The wand felt anxious and uncertain in his hand. Draco guessed he would only be able to cast very simple spells with it and maybe not even that. 

“It’s just- about last night…” Potter hesitated, shifting his weight from foot to foot, "about everything that happened.”

Draco watched Potter rub the back of his neck, looking so strangely unassured, and felt almost dizzy with the entirety of it. Draco pinched the skin on the back of his hand until he winced. When he looked up, Potter was still there, watching him with a puzzled frown.

“Did you just… pinch yourself?” Potter asked, “Like you were dreaming?”

And out of all of the multitude of infinite things Draco could have said, he stupidly answered, “Yes.”

“ _Come on_ ,” Potter sighed, “I’m trying to sort things out. You could at least stop being a prat for ten minutes.”

Draco didn’t even have a  _yes_  this time. How could he ever explain that over all the years they had known one another Potter had never looked and sounded like he had just then. It was only in his dreams that Draco had seen such an earnest expression, such a show of trust. So he nodded silently.

“I was wondering if you needed any help?” Potter said.

Draco stared at him.

“With the brewing.”

Draco very much wanted to pinch himself again.

“You do it all by yourself don’t you?” Potter went on. He huffed in frustration, “You could just say no, rather than me standing here talking to myself-”

“No- I mean, you don’t have to-” Draco felt his cheeks getting hot and absolutely wanted to just die right there, “Fine. It’s fine, you helping.”

“Really?” Potter said in surprise.

"Yes, _really_ , Potter," Draco said, clinging to his growing annoyance like a lifeline, "And take this back. You don't just give your wand to people." He shoved Potter's wand at him, both relieved and disappointed to be free of it.

“So it’s in the same place, that weird little potions lab?” Potter asked.

Draco nodded, “You can meet me there at midnight, if you decide to show up.”

“I’ll show up,” Potter snapped. He studied Draco’s face with a frown, “Why don’t you look knackered? You were up just as long as I was and yet you look-” he stopped abruptly.

Draco raised an eyebrow, “I look-?”

“...Not as tired,” Potter muttered, looking embarassed.

Draco said, “I sleep three hours after dinner and another three after I finish around dawn. It’s not optimal, but it suffices.”

“Oh,” Potter said thoughtfully, “Well, with my help you might get a bit more sleep.”

“Maybe.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Potter asked.

Draco sighed, mostly at his own foolishness, “That you’re probably going to be more trouble than help.”

“Oi! I can follow direction just as well as anyone!” Potter said defensively.

“That remains to be seen,” Draco said, “Now I have to get to class, I’m late enough already.”

“Oh, you have-?”

Draco stepped around Potter, “Ancient Runes and unlike  _some_  people, I don’t get a free pass to do as I like.”

Potter followed along stuffing his hands in his muggle jeans, “Yeah, well saving the world ought to be good for something.”

Draco rolled his eyes. He intended to ignore Potter, but Potter kept walking next to him, down the hall and up the stairs, as if he intended to walk with Draco all the way to class.

“What are you doing, Potter?” Draco asked just above a hiss.

Potter shrugged, a smug little smile on his face.

Draco desperately wanted to stop and demand answers but he  _was_  late, an exam was coming up and he rather suspected that Potter was enjoying his discomfort. If that were the case, Draco certainly had no intention of giving him what he wanted. He lifted his chin and made his way to the classroom, doing his utmost to ignore the git.

He pushed the door open, heading up the side and hoping Professor Babbling wouldn’t notice him.

“You’re late, Mr Malfoy.” Professor Babbling called out, causing him to freeze in his tracks, She continued, “If you’re not going to take my class seriously-”

“Sorry, Professor!” Potter interrupted cheerfully, leaning against the door frame, “I had to ask Malfoy about something and made him late.”

Professor Babbling looked from Potter to Draco and back again, her eyebrows disappearing into her fringe. “I see." She cleared her throat, “I would appreciate you not delaying my students in the future, Mr Potter.”

“Won’t happen again,” Potter said with obvious fake solemnity. He gave the Professor a nod and, just as he closed the door, flashed Draco that cheeky, smug smile that made Draco want to chuck a desk at him.

“Take a seat, Mr Malfoy,” Professor Babbling said.

* * *

  
  


“Sorry, I’m late!” Potter said as he stepped into the potion lab, closing the door behind him.

Draco winced at the noise, “Leave the door open a crack unless you want to go back to your dorm smelling like a swamp.”

Potter eased the door open an inch, “Alright… I did think it was strange that you didn’t lock and ward it before, but yeah, that makes sense.” He paused to yawn, pushing his glasses up and rubbing his eyes.

Draco turned back to his ingredients.

“So what should I do?” Potter walked around to the other side of the table.

“Wash your hands,” Draco said, “These are the basics, Potter. And you might want to roll your sleeves up if you’re in the habit of putting them in things.”

“I- Sure,” Potter said stiffly. 

Draco stopped what he was doing and looked up, watching Potter shove the sleeves of his baggy jumper up past his elbows exposing strong forearms dusted with black hair.

“I can’t tell if you’re still…” Potter’s voice trailed off as he turned the sink on and grabbed the soap.

Draco waited, but Potter seemed uninterested in finishing his own line of thought.

“Never mind,” Potter said, quickly drying his hands off and walking back to the table, “Just tell me what to do.”

Draco straightened his back and passed Potter a mortar and pestle and a knife, “We’ll prepare each ingredient together so you can see what the ideal preparation-”

Potter snorted.

“-looks like and then tasks can be divided depending on preference or ability for next time.”

They worked in silence, crushing the nettle, powdering the bone, weighing out the moonstone and putting them all on squares of parchment.

“Not this one,” Draco said, picking up the bottle of aconite, “I’ll prepare this myself.”

“I’m not going to stick my fingers in my mouth this time, I swear,” Potter said fighting back a yawn.

Draco smiled faintly, “I should hope so, but that’s not why I’m doing it myself.”

“Yeah, why then?” Potter asked.

Draco pulled on a pair of brewing gloves to handle the plant and carefully pulled out a small handful of leaves, “In this potion, the aconite is the foci, so to speak. Any other ingredient can be slightly more or less than what’s called for, and the potion will still work. The aconite has to be perfect: it’s the difference between life and death. I can’t afford to be lax.”

“I get it,” Potter said, leaning against the wall, “I mean you’ve brewed it enough to have it memorised, and potions isn’t exactly my best subject.”

“You did well during sixth year,” Draco said.

“That was…” Potter hesitated, “I had a textbook that had been Snape’s when he was in school, it had all these notes and tips. So that’s why.”

Draco frowned at him, annoyed.

“What?” Potter asked.

Draco went back to powdering the leaves, “I thought you cheated.”

“I didn’t!”

“You did just say that, yes,” Draco said.

“And I meant it,” Potter insisted.

“And I believe you.”

“I- you do?” Potter said in disbelief.

“Severus is- was always a much better teacher on paper,” Draco looked up, catching Potter staring at him. He looked down at his hands, sweeping the aconite into a pile, “You might not have the inherent aptitude of a potions master, but you could very well be a very capable brewer with half-decent instruction.”

Potter stared at him, his brows furrowed together.

Draco moved on to testing the potency of the aconite, trying not to feel uneasy about Potter’s silence.

“You think I’m good at brewing,” Potter said.

Draco jumped, nearly dropping his sample.

“You could have just said that,” Potter huffed.

Draco felt his face get hot and silently swore to never utter another compliment aloud ever again.

“So you are still doing it then,” Potter said.

“Doing what?” Draco asked defensively.

Potter poked at one of the parchment squares, “Being polite and weird.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being polite, and I’m not  _weird_ ,” Draco said.

“Dunno about that,” Potter said, “I mean you have to admit it’s weird for you.”

“People change,” Draco said stiffly.

Potter frowned, “I thought you were imperiused for a while. Hermione thinks maybe you’re trying to turn a new leaf.”

“My respect for Granger grows every day,” Draco said flatly.

Potter shifted his weight, worrying the cuticle on one hand, “I thought after last night and the hallway, that you’d gone back to normal.”

“We’re ready to brew,” Draco said abruptly. He started the first and poured the potion base into the cauldron, and conjured a fire, “If you would just hand me the ingredients like you did in class.”

“O-Okay?” Potter said.

Draco could almost forget Potter there when he was brewing until he reached for an ingredient only to find Potter already holding it out. Potter filled and sealed the vials and washed out the empty cauldrons, so they were ready when Draco moved from one potion to the next. Everything went much faster than it usually did which thankfully meant there wasn’t time for talking.

As the last potion made its last glurp and Draco dispelled the flames, there was absolutely nothing to stop him from thinking about what Potter had said, turning it over and over in his mind until he wasn’t entirely certain how Potter had actually said it.

Draco chewed his bottom lip, “Would you rather I act ‘normal’ as you call it?”

“What? Oh…” Potter yawned hugely, staring blankly at the sludgy potion. “Just weird is all,” he said with a shrug.

“Yes but-” Draco cut off abruptly and horrifyingly aware of the words he had almost spoken out loud,  _what do you like best?_

Despite the words being unspoken, Potter seemed to pluck their meaning from the air. “I mean it doesn’t matter what I think, does it?”

He looked up at Draco and Draco couldn’t look away, nor could he bear to answer. The only thing he seemed to be capable of was flushing furiously. Then he panicked.

“You can leave,” Draco blurted, “I’ll finish this. You look like shite. I mean you should get some rest.”

“Uh, alright,” Potter said. He took a step back and hesitated, rocking forward like there was something he wanted to say. He shook his head, “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Yes,” Draco said faintly. He made until Potter closed the door before he sank down onto his heels, gripping the edge of the table for dear life.

  
  


  
  



	7. Chapter 7

“Good morning, Draco,” Millicent said, shaking her head, as she stepped to the side, holding the door open for him.

“Morning Millicent,” Draco said hurrying past her into the girl's dorm, “Pansy!”

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Daphne screeched.

Draco waved a dismissive hand in her general direction, pulling open the curtains of Pansy’s bed.

Pansy scowled up at him, her eyes squinted nearly shut, her hair spread in a mess across her crumpled pillow.

“GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT!” Daphne wailed.

“Oh shut up, Daphne,” Pansy muttered.

Daphne stamped her feet, “I’m not dressed! This is highly inappropriate!”

“He’s not interested, Daphne,” Pansy said flatly.

Draco sat on the end of Pansy’s bed, pulling his knees up as he turned to face her, “Listen-”

“I don’t care if he’s your boyfriend, I want him out!” Daphne demanded.

Pansy rolled her eyes, “You’re slower than a sea sponge, Daphne.”

Draco spelled the curtains closed, following it with a privacy charm and a small lumos, “There’s something I need to tell you-”

“Are you pregnant?” Pansy asked.

"What?!" Draco said, thoroughly taken aback, "No!"

“And you’re not dead, so I couldn’t possibly care less,” Pansy said, pressing her face back into her pillow with a sigh.

“It’s about Potter,” Draco said urgently.

“Still don’t care,” Pansy said, her words muffled.

Draco smacked her leg under the blanket, “You’d have to get up in fifteen minutes anyway so just listen to me.”

Pansy pulled her leg back and kicked him in the shin, “Fuck you. This had better be interesting.”

“I may have neglected to mention that Potter discovered me brewing yesterday,” Draco said.

Pansy turned her head, her eye slowly opening like an enraged sea serpent emerging from the depths, "You _neglected_ to mention?"

“I was going to, but Potter was- he-” Draco looked down at his hands, tangling his fingers together, “he surprised me. He asked to help me brew the wolfsbane.”

"What?" Pansy struggled up to a sitting position, "Potter's helping you? I offered to help and you told me to piss off."

Draco gave her a look, “You got a Dreadful on your Owls and dropped the class after fifth year. You are  _maliciously_  bad at potions.”

Pansy shrugged, “So?”

Draco rolled his eyes.

Pansy grabbed her wand and charmed her hair straight with a sigh, “How’s it going then?”

“"He's a decent brewer but..." Draco hesitated, "Potter said I was _weird_.”

“You are weird,” Pansy said.

"I'm not."

Pansy yawned and scratched her nose, “Whatever. Weird how?”

“He thought I was imperused,” Draco huffed, “Just because I was polite and nice.”

Pansy looked thoughtful and then nodded, “That’s rather clever. I mean if you ignore the easiest solution of you being stupid in love, it makes sense.”

Draco flushed and frowned, “I’m not in  _love_.”

“You  _are_  stupid.”

“I hate you,” Draco said.

“I hate you too,” Pansy said sweetly then laughed. A sing-songy chime started playing from Pansy’s pillow, and she quickly grabbed her wand, turning off the alarm. “Daphne’s gone,” she said as she pulled the curtains back.“

“Good. Because I’m not done telling you everything.”

Pansy threw her head back with a groan.

“It’s wretchedly embarrassing, and I’m absolutely not telling you about it in public,” Draco said.

Pansy perked up, “It better be. You still haven’t made up for the twenty minutes of sleep I could have enjoyed instead of suffering through you.”

“Fifteen.”

Pansy shrugged and pulled her wardrobe open, “Well, at least you’ve already started the next step.”

“The next step?” Draco’s brow furrowed as he laid back on Pansy’s bed.

“Step five? The next step? You know the one you wrote down? On the list we made?” Pansy said pulling on her uniform and tossing her pyjamas on the floor.

Step Five: Try to spend time together outside of class.

“You’ve got another few nights alone with him,” Pansy said.

Draco stared up at the canopy of Pansy’s bed with a frown. He pressed his hands over his face, “I’m absolutely going to fuck it up.”

  


* * *

  


Draco put down his pestle and titled his head towards the door, ears straining after the faint sound of footsteps, like someone was pacing. But just like the sounds that he swore he had heard earlier, they must have been just a product of his anticipation.

He shook his head and turned back to ingredients in front of him. He had finished preparing nearly all of them now, and Potter had still not shown up. Draco wondered if he changed his mind.

The door creaked open and then closed except for a crack. Potter pulled off his invisibility cloak, “Err, Hi.”

“You’re quite late,” Draco said.

“Yeah,” Potter dragged his hand through his hair which he had apparently been doing all night, that or letting a niffler nest in it. “I’ll, uh, just-” he pointed to the sink and went over, taking his time washing his hands.

“Something happen?” Draco asked.

“Something-?” Potter twitched. “Oh, you mean being late? I just... dozed off after my alarm.”

Draco frowned, quite certain Potter was lying, “…I’ve finished everything except the nettles. I saved them for you if you decided to show up.”

“The nettles,” Potter said, quickly drying his hands and hurrying to the other side of the table. He took the knife and pile of nettle leaves, “Then I did alright on these last time?”

“They’re almost impossible to fuck up. It’s the simplest part of the potion,” Draco said.

Potter blinked and looked up at him.

Draco raised an eyebrow and smirked.

“Git,” Potter said sounding relieved.

Draco turned to the cauldron and measured out the potion base, and by the time he needed the minced nettle, Potter had it ready.

As Draco finished the first wolfsbane, Potter said, “You really are the best at potions in our year.”

Draco was only half listening as he squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he could rub the weariness from them.

“Best in the school maybe,” Potter added thoughtfully.

“There’s a Ravenclaw girl in fifth year with a lot of potential,” Draco said absently, “She has excellent instincts.” He brow furrowed and he mentally repeated the conversation.

It was a compliment. Potter had  _complimented_ him.

When he looked up Potter was grinning and, Draco felt unaccountably annoyed with him. “That’s very kind, thank you,” Draco said stiffly, fussing with the cauldron so he wouldn’t flush, or if he did it would be suitably hidden.

Potter huffed, “Weird.”

“And how am I supposed to act?” Draco asked peevishly.

Potter shrugged, “I feel like you’d be mad at me normally.”

“ _Why_?”

“Because… you’d think I’m making fun of you,” Potter said.

Draco narrowed his eyes, “Are you?”

“No!” Potter said quickly, “I was just-”

“Provoking me,” Draco finished for him.

“I wasn’t!” Potter said.

“You were,” Draco said, giving him a flat stare.

“I-” Potter faltered and frowned, “It’s not like I wanted you to hit me.”

“Fine then, you’re an idiot,” Draco said.

“Hey!”

Draco sniffed, “That’s what you wanted isn’t it?”

“Who would want to be insulted?!” Potter said.

Draco shrugged, “ _You_ , apparently.”

“I don’t-” Potter frowned to himself, “Let’s just get this done.”

Draco went to the second cauldron to start the next potion. The thing that annoyed him the most was that Potter thought he could provoke Draco in the first place. Draco was the one who did the provoking, and he was better at it.

He smirked faintly as an idea came to him. By the time they were nearly done, Draco had a plan.

“Why don’t you brew the last potion?” Draco said, stepping to the side.

Potter froze, his eyes widening in alarm, “Why don’t I  _what_?”

Draco gestured to the cauldron, “You’ve seen me do it a dozen times now, and I’ll make sure you don’t foul it up.”

“No way,” Potter shook his head vehemently.

Draco sighed, “How in the world are you planning to pass your Newts if you can’t brew? A majority of the final score goes to the potions brewed during the exam.”

“I don’t need to brew this one,” Potter pointed out.

Draco deliberately stepped back in front of the cauldron, “You’re right, I can’t expect you-”

“ _You_ -,” Potter scowled. “No, I’ll do it. Shove over,” He waved Draco out of the way and took the stirring rod, “It’s got to simmer then add the nettle, two stirs clockwise, three counter and add the bone, right?”

“Yes,” Draco said, stifling a grin. “The easiest way to keep track of the correct development of this potion is the smell.”

“The smell,” Potter leaned over the cauldron and sniffed cautiously. His nose wrinkled, “It smells like sour milk.”

“And that develops into an earthy smell although the sour scent will linger faintly even in the completed potion,” Draco said handing him the next ingredient.

“Four turns clockwise?”

Draco nodded, “Yes, and switch to the silver stirring rod. Shake off it off well, good. Losing too much liquid can cause an incomplete secondary reaction stage.”

Potter’s brow furrowed in concentration, “Twice counterclockwise with the silver…”

Draco almost held his breath as he picked up the next ingredient and held it out, “The earthy smell will start to come out with the addition of the asphodel.”

Potter leaned over the cauldron as he dumped in the minced leaves, “How much do you stir it?”

“Up to twelve times, alternating clockwise and counterclockwise until it’s fully incorporated,” Draco said, leaning back.

The potion made a slurping wet noise. Draco held his breath as a massive air bubble pushed up and popped in a belch, spattering greeny brown goop all over Potters face and hair.

Potter recoiled with a sputtered, “ _Fucking-Merlin_!”

Draco snickered, snatching the stirring wand from Potter's hand and continuing to stir.

“Malfoy!” Potter yelled pulling his glasses off and wiping his face with the back of his sleeve.

“It’s still inert!” Draco laughed, “ Just wash it off.”

“You knew that would happen!” Potter pointed his glasses accusingly at Draco as he hurried to the sink.

Draco carefully sprinkled in the next ingredient, trying to focus on the potion but still grinning with far too much self-satisfaction, “Only you, Potter, would forget that asphodel produces a copious amount of gas when added to an acidic compound.” He couldn’t help laughing again, “You  _never_  add it all at once.”

Potter stomped back over, his hair and sleeves soaked with water, trying to clean his glasses with the inside of his shirt. They were still faintly smeared when he put them on, “You are such a git.”

Draco’s smile softened, “And you look like a half-drowned rat.”

“I-” Potter blinked, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard, “Have you always smiled like that?”

Draco’s brow furrowed, “Like what?”

Potter’s eyes widened, “I- No. Nevermind you-” he took a step backwards, his words running together,” -you have to add the next ingredient don’t you? I’m just gonna go out in the hall, spell myself dry-” He jerked the door open and darted outside.

Draco stared after him for a second then quickly added the last ingredient, stirring three times clockwise and three times counter. He withdrew the stirring rod, watching the unappealing goop with apprehension as it took on the correct greenish colour and the sour milk scent was overpowered by the right sort of swampy smell. He would test it anyway just to be safe.

Draco dispelled the flames and grinned again; that was how you provoked someone into doing exactly what you wanted.

  
  


  
  



	8. Chapter 8

Draco corked the last two vials of wolfsbane and put them into the box with the others, checking that the cushioning charms were in good repair before latching it closed. He carried the cauldron to the sink and filled it with water and soap, rinsing it three times and thoroughly hand drying it before setting it back on the table and covering it with a cloth.

The door opened, and Potter stepped inside, “I still stink,” he muttered peevishly.

“Oh yes, it gets into the skin. It should be mostly gone by tomorrow,” Draco said, “I assumed you left.”

“Thought about it,” Potter said.

Draco pulled his cloak on and picked up the box, “I’ve already finished.”

Potter grimaced, “I wasn’t much help tonight.”

“Quite entertaining though,” Draco said.

Potter glared at him.

Draco shrugged.

Potter looked away with a huff, “You’re extremely frustrating.”

“That’s what you wanted, Potter,” Draco said, searching Potter’s expression.

“I don’t know what I want…” Potter said so quietly Draco didn’t fully make it out. He took a deep breath and looked at Draco, “What do you do after this?”

Draco hesitated then looked down at the box, “I go to the owlery.”

“You send the whole thing?” Potter asked. “I figured it’d be lots of little packages.”

“I send it to the manor, and Kipper, my house elf, apparates the potion to each house. It’s more efficient, he can ignore wards, and can’t be tracked by the ministry.” He walked over to the door, “You might as well go back to your dorm for the night.” He shifted the box to one arm and grabbed the doorknob. He cleared his throat meaningfully at Potter.

“Right, sorry,” Potter said, quickly following Draco out into the hall.

Draco pulled the door closed.

“I could help.”

“What?” Draco said, his hand frozen on the knob.

“Going to the owlery, I can help so you don’t get caught,” Potter said, pulling his invisibility cloak out of his robes.

Draco allowed himself to consider it for just a second then shook his head, “No. I’ve never had any problems.”

“Our professors can spot disillusionment spells, or a prefect might be patrolling, and there’s Ms Norris,” Potter said.

Draco rolled his eyes, “As I said, I’ve never had any problems. Filch never comes into the dungeons this late.”

Draco shifted closer, trying to peer over Potter's shoulder while he was engrossed. He soon saw why, there were little names on the map, a name for everyone, including his and Potter's down in the depths of the castle.

Draco shifted closer, trying to peer over Potter's shoulder while he was engrossed. He soon saw why, there were little names on the map, a name for everyone, including his and Potter’s down in the depths of the castle.

“...You can't be serious,” Draco said faintly.

Potter glanced over his shoulder at Draco, looking embarrassed, “Err... yeah. I've had it for a while.”

“I see,” Draco said. He looked away and pulled his hood over his hair, “I’m going.”

“Wait,” Potter said. He walked over and pinned the map between his knees, shaking out his invisibility cloak. He swung it around Draco’s shoulders, grinned nervously, and let the front of the hood fall to shroud Draco’s face, “It’s always a bit strange seeing someone else in the cloak.”

It was like looking through a silvery veil. When Draco looked down at himself nothing was there at all unlike the subtle waver in the air left by disillusionment charms. “You can’t see me at all?” Draco asked.

“I can still hear you but no, completely gone,” Potter paused and gave a faint pained smile, “hidden from even death itself.”

Draco raised an eyebrow, “That seems unnecessarily dramatic.”

Potter lifted his map, “Let’s go; I’ll keep watch for anyone headed towards us.”

Draco let Potter lead the way, somewhat hopeful that he’d trip with the way he kept staring at his map. When they reached the main floor, Draco asked curiously, “...Were you referring to the invisibility cloak in the tale of three brothers?”

Potter managed to pull his face out of his map, “Yeah?”

“That’s rather clever,” Draco conceded.

Potter glared in his general direction, “I suppose you just  _needed_  to say it like that.”

“Like what?” Draco asked.

“Like I’m a dog that’s done a trick,” Potter said.

“Well,” Draco said smirking to himself, “You certainly aren’t a dog.”

Potter rolled his eyes with an exasperated sigh, “But it was a clever trick. Right. Could you be any more of a little shit?” He glanced down at the map.

“I-”

“fuck-” Potter hissed, quickly folding the map and shoving it in a pocket, “where are you?”

Draco opened the cloak with his free hand, and Potter rushed to him, grabbed his wrist and pulling him to the wall, in the shadow of a suit of armour. He pinned the edges of the cloak between the wall and his back, hiding them both inside. The small box Draco in hands was the only thing separating them from one another. 

Potter froze as they heard the footsteps of whoever was coming, peering past Draco’s shoulder to get a look at them.

Draco was desperately trying not to lean forward and bury his nose in Potters hair which was close enough to brush his cheek. It was surprisingly soft and smooth, smelling faintly of lavender and something else, mingling inoffensively with the rich earthy smell of the potion. It was pure torture and completely unfair as far as Draco was concerned.

The footsteps drew closer, and they sounded like the Headmistress’, sharp and clipped. Draco felt Potter’s hand curl around his wrist again. It was warm and gentle, and Draco felt like he was dreaming again.

Potter held his breath as McGonagall strode briskly past them, her footsteps leading her past the stairs and away from them.

“…I  _can,_  in fact, be more of a little shit,” Draco said quietly to break the tense silence.

He expected Potter to smile or laugh or at least insult him, not tighten his grip on Draco’s wrist and blurt out, “You and Parkinson are dating?”

Draco blinked, “Pansy and I-?” He frowned,  his nose crinkling at the thought, “Merlin no. Absolutely not.”

“You’re always together,” Potter said.

“She’s my friend,” Draco said.

Potter worried his bottom lip, “The two of you seem so close is all.”

“She’s the only person talks to me in this school and at great cost to herself,” Draco said.

Potter’s brow furrowed.

Draco sighed, “Being seen with me is social poison. She would have a lot more opportunities if she left me behind.”

Potter’s grip loosened, “She must care about you a lot.”

“Well she’s better than whatever you’ve decided she is in your head,” Draco said. He gathered what little nerve he had and managed to blurt, “I'm- I'm not interested in- she's not- and I'm not her- her type. Neither of us are... interested.” He stopped talking, feeling foolish and flushed as a tomato.

“I- Right,” Potter said in a strangled tone. He quickly let go of Draco’s wrist and fumbled his way out of the cloak, walking back to the centre of the hall as he pulled out his map. “It should be clear now.”

Draco nodded and followed him up the stairs.

  
  


* * *

  
  


They wound their way up the tower until the reached the owlery, the rafters, beams and nesting boxes full of owls. Just outside the open windows, the first rays of dawn began peeking over the horizon though they lent no warmth to the bitter winter cold.

Potter stopped at the doorway, looking grimly at the floor rather than the far more interesting owls or veiw.

Draco took off Potter’s cloak and handed back to him, calling up to the rafters, “Castor, Pollux.”

Two brown owls peered down at him, spreading their wings and flying down to the nearest windowsill. Draco carefully put the box in a cloth bag, sealing the top and holding up the four loops sewn on either side for the owls to grab, “Take this to the manor, make sure Kipper gets it by morning.”

Castor flew over, his brother only a wingbeat behind, snatching up the loops and carrying the box up and out of the tower.

“I thought you had an eagle owl,” Potter said.

Draco turned back to Potter in surprise, “Yes…I did.”

“It was rather hard to miss,” Potter said defensively.

“I suppose,” Draco said, “We had two eagle owls, Father bought one for me when I started school. ...Septimus was killed, and Armand stays with mother. I wasn’t going to get another owl but delivering the wolfsbane forced my hand.”

“You could have used the school owls,” Potter said.

Draco looked up, spotting a few of the scruffy looking Hogwarts owls, “Certainly, if I wanted half my vials broken in transport. Castor and Pollux are from the same brood, specially trained to fly in tandem with large packages.”

“Only the best for a Malfoy,” Potter said sarcastically.

“Of course,” Draco said, “When you have the money for it, why not?”

“You could help people,” Potter said.

Draco rolled his eyes, “I am helping people, Potter.”

“I meant help more people,” Potter rather pointlessly explained.

Draco carefully walked back to him, stepping around owl pellets and what looked like half a dead rat, “And I suppose you’ve donated all your money then? Started charities and organizations for the betterment of the world?”

“I- No,” Potter hesitated, “I mean I’ve donated a bit after the war but with school, I don’t have time to do more.”

Draco bristled with indignation, “And you think I do?”

“I-”

“I don’t know what you want, Potter.” Draco’s lip curled in a sneer, “ You want me to act as I always have, but you also want me to be better than I ever was before. You want me to be selfish and a coward but when I’m not what I have done isn’t enough.”

Potter threw up his hands, “I don’t know! I just- don’t know alright?!”

Draco stared at him his eyes narrowing.

“It’d be easier if you were just a prat. I wouldn’t have to think about…” he stopped and grimaced like he was in pain, dragging both hands through his hair in frustration. “But I’d like you to be good as well.”

“I’m never going to be  _good_ , Potter. Not like you. Not like your lot,” Draco said.

“But you’re-

Draco interrupted, "A war criminal, a social pariah, a coward.”

“You’re trying,” Potter finished.

“And is that enough?” Draco snapped.

“It ought to be, shouldn’t it?”Potter said like he was trying to convince himself, studying Draco with an intensity that made him shiver.

Draco pushed his hood off, absent-mindedly straightening his hair even as it fell back into his eyes. “Well, I’m not sure what  _I’m_  meant to do anymore. So I shan’t,” he said feeling increasingly annoyed. “If you want to be convinced, you can do it yourself.”

He nearly fell as Potter grabbed the front of his robes, pulled him close and kissed him. It was rough, breathless, and over far too quickly.

Potter took a step backwards, his expression defiant and torn.

“Potter,” Draco reached after him, but Potter turned and ran back down the tower stairs.

Draco managed to shake his shock off and ran after him, “Get back here, Potter! You’re not supposed to run off!  _You don’t kiss people and run off!_ ” He stopped at the base of the tower, out of breath to an unseemly degree, and no Potter in sight. With his invisibility cloak, Draco didn’t have a fucking chance of finding him.

“ _Potter_!” He shouted down the hall and in a fit of pique allowed himself to stomp petulantly on the floor, “Stupid fucking prat! I had plans for that kiss! I was going to put it in a pensive and keep it forever and now I’ll have to cut off the end and- and-” he sucked in a deep breath and let it out all in one. “Arsehole,” he combed his fingers through his hair and irritably straightened his robes.

Draco slumped down on the stairs feeling a little shaky as the last of the adrenaline left his body. He stared down the empty hallway and slowly grinned, feeling hopeful, giddy and annoyed all at once.

  
  



	9. Chapter 9

“Draco. Draco!  _Draco_!” Pansy jerked his curtains back.

Draco opened his eyes just in time for Pansy to half blind him with a lumos right in his eyes, “ _AHH_!  _Pansy_! What the fuck?”

“ What the fuck yourself!” Pansy smacked him, “You took dreamless sleep again didn’t you!?”

Draco pulled his blankets up as a shield, trying to sit up and scrabble backwards all at the same time, “No, I-!”

“You promised me you wouldn’t! You said you were done!” Pansy hit him again and again; her voice edged with tears.

“I didn’t! I didn’t!” Draco panted, his back pressed against the wall, “I promised I didn’t!”

Pansy glared at him, “You always wake up before me, and you didn’t wake up when I yelled at you-!”

“I didn’t take dreamless sleep,” Draco said, holding his hands up defensively, “I did take three drops from my fletus fern dilution.”

Pansy crossed her arms over her chest, her mouth pressing into a thin line.

“I thought it would be just strong enough to help me sleep but not so strong it would leave me drowsy,” Draco tried to explain, “ I need to dilute it further, obviously.”

Pansy’s expression didn’t flicker, “I don’t like it.”

“I only did it because I still have to brew for four more nights and knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep without it.”

“What happened?” Pansy asked, “And it better be good.”

Draco slipped off the end of his bed and pulled open one of the four empty wardrobes he had stored his small personal pensive in, a silvery memory already pooled in the bottom, "Take a look for yourself."

Pansy glared at him again then pushed past him, tucking her hair behind her ears before leaning into the memory.

Draco took the opportunity to go back to his bed, pull off his pyjamas and put on fresh pants and undershirt. He was putting on his socks when Pansy pulled her head back up with a gasp.

Pansy spun around, “He kissed you!”

“And then fucked off, ” Draco said, grabbing a clean uniform and quickly pulling it on.

“I can’t believe he actually kissed you,” Pansy repeated numbly, “I mean I know I said he might be bi, but I was being entirely full of shit.”

Draco rolled his eyes.

“He comes off as very straight and I mean  _very_  straight. He has no sense of style or grooming and he’s always scruffy-”

“Yes, thank you, Pansy,” Draco said in a very clipped tone.

Pansy’s eyes widened theatrically, “Merlin’s. Saggy. Bollocks. Is he going to grow up into a bear? Is Potter a baby bear?”

“Pansy, if you don’t stop, I’m going to put you in a full body bind and roll you under my bed for the rest of the day,” Draco snapped.

“This means you’ve done step six!” Pansy said. She grabbed his bag and pulled out the battered list. “Here:

Step 6: Find out if he’d actually want to date another bloke.”

Draco shook his head, finishing up the buttons on his shirt, “I don’t care about the list, Pansy. It obviously doesn't matter now.”

“What _ever,_ ” Pansy said dismissively, shoving the list back inside his bag.

Draco’s brow furrowed, “Whatever?” he repeated.

Pansy ignored him, asking instead, “What are you going to do then?”

“I’m going to track him down, and he’s going to explain himself, and if I don’t like the explanation I’m going to break his stupid nose. Again,” Draco said, pulling his bag over his shoulder and walking out of the room as quickly as he could without running.

Pansy grabbed hold of his arm, slowing him down so she didn’t have to run to keep up, “Oh don’t do that; presumably you like his face. You should break a rib or maybe… punch him in the kidneys.”

Draco nodded in agreement, “I’ll do both.”

Pansy snorted, “You won’t.”

Draco shrugged. It was nice to think he might, and there was always the possibility that Potter would rile him up enough. No one else could make him as angry as Potter. Well, no one alive.

“Draco… don’t give him your loyalty,” Pansy said.

“Pans-”

“And don’t say you already have,” she said.

Draco sighed, “He pulled me from the fire, Pansy. He testified for me.”

Pansy tightened her grip, “Trusting him with your life isn’t the same as trusting him with your heart.”

“I- yes. You’re quite right,” Draco said reluctantly.

“I know I am,” Pansy said. “You should at least try to get a better kiss.”

“ _I know_ ,” Draco muttered.  They exited the dungeons and Draco looked up the stairs, “The Gryffindor tower is up there isn’t it?”

“What? I don’t know. Just wait for him to come down for breakfast.” Pansy said.

Draco pulled his arm free, “Obviously I can’t. I’ve already waited as long as I can stand.”

“You’re such a child,” Pansy tsked.

Draco lifted his nose, “Well, you’re a cow.”

“ _moo_ ,” Pansy said, flipping him off.

Draco grabbed hold of the bannister, starting up the stairs.

Pansy called after him, “They have a portrait entrance, remember? A big lady in pink, I think.”

Draco waved at her over his shoulder, running the rest of the way up.

* * *

  
  


Draco followed the trickle of Gryffindors through the halls and up another staircase, hoping he hadn’t missed Potter entirely.

“-just don’t see why you need to wear it? What happened?” Weasley’s voice asked from just up ahead.

Draco hurried around the corner and saw Weasley and Granger walking down the hall, a person-sized gap between the two of them. Granger quickly stepped next to Weasley, her expression stiff.

“I need to speak to Potter.” Draco said.

Weasley crossed his arms over his chest, “He isn’t here so bugger off.”

Draco wondered if all Gryffindors were this bad at lying. Maybe it was why they were all put into the same house, like some sort of mutually shared disability.

“Harry wasn’t feeling well,” Granger tried.

“ _I said_ , I need to talk with Potter,” Draco said.

Weasley bristled like an angry boar, “Why don’t you tell us what’s so bloody important and then I’ll decide whether to hex your bollocks off of not.”

“Fine. Tell Potter, next time he kisses me-” Draco ignored Weasley’s weird choking noise, “-I’d like it to last at least five seconds and to be warned beforehand so I can enjoy it properly.”

“He kissed you?” Granger said faintly.

“There’s no fucking way Harry did anything like- like  _that_ ,” Weasley said.

Draco raised an eyebrow, “Oh, you were there, were you?”

“Without warning?” Granger frowned and sighed, “Harry you can’t just go and-”

“He- Wait, what?” Weasley said in disbelief.

Granger gave Weasley an impatient look, “He kissed Cho while she was  _crying_ and he kissed Ginny completely without warning in front of everyone. Don’t get me wrong, it can be romantic, but there’s nothing wrong with asking. Especially if you don’t know for sure if the other party wants to be kissed.”

“I had no complaints about that part. It was when he ran off afterwards that rather pissed me off,” Draco said.

“Yeah, well I’d run off too. You’re not exactly anyone’s first choice,” Weasley said.

“As opposed to you? You’re the living embodiment of a carrot,” Draco sniffed, “one of the thin knobbly ones.”

“I couldn’t care less what you think of me,” Weasley said, his face slowly turning bright red with anger.

“That’s good because  _I don’t_  think of you. I prefer not to throw up in my mouth,” Draco said.

“That’s  _enough_ ,” Granger said firmly, grabbing Weasley’s forearm and stepping between them.

Weasley slowly lowered the hand he had lifted to deck Draco.

Draco took a step back, unwilling to cross Granger.

“Look, Malfoy, I can talk to Harry,” Granger said as if she regretted it already, “But if this is all going where I think it is, I’m going to need an apology from you.”

Draco pursed his lips, feeling terribly put upon. It wasn’t that he hadn’t thought about it before, he just would have preferred more time to collect his thoughts, “…I am sorry about all the things I called you in reference to your birth or looks.” He paused trying to put it all into words properly, “I was jealous of you, but that’s no excuse for cruelty or prejudice, and I am truly sorry.”

Granger relaxed, “I suppose that will do. I accept your apology.”

“Excellent,” Draco said, “Now about Potter-”

“Wait! What about me?” Weasley said pointing to himself.

“I’m not going to apologise to  _you._ You gave as good as you got.” Draco said dismissively.

Weasley narrowed his eyes, “What about all the shit you said about my family?”

“That they’re poor?” Draco said, “Well they are. It’s not my fault you take it so personally.”

Weasley’s hands curled into fists.

“Besides, you call me ferret. So I’d say we’re even on that front,” Draco said.

“How is that even close-! It was only a couple minutes, a little embarrassment-”

“That,” Draco said coldly, “Was the most painful and terrifying thing I ever endured, at least before, well-” he grimaced thinking of the faded mark on his forearm.

“Yeah right,” Weasley said dismissively.

Draco huffed, “I suppose I wouldn’t expect you to know, but ferrets have very fragile bones, they don’t bounce, they  _break_.” He shuddered but went on, perversely enjoying Weasley’s discomfort, “It’s quite fortunate our Headmistress is the foremost transfiguration expert in europe or I might have died if she hadn’t changed me back to exactly as I was. But yes, it was  _just_  a few minutes, Weasley.”

Weasley glanced away guilty, which made recalling the incident entirely worthwhile.

“Then you can both apologise to one another for that,” Granger said.

Draco met Weasley’s eyes and found himself completely agreeing with the sentiment he saw there, there was absolutely no way he was ever going to apologise, but some accord was probably necessary. “Let’s strike a truce, Weasley. I will no longer insult your family if you will no longer bring up the transfiguration incident.”

Granger breathed a sigh of relief, “That’s a good start.”

“Start? No, that’s it,” Draco said, “I absolutely couldn’t tolerate not calling Weasley a useless ginger tosser, or some variation thereof.”

Weasley hesitated then grinned, “Yeah, It’d be a shame not to be able to call you a stuck up pointy ponce.”

Weasley’s tone was unexpectedly game and Draco found himself smirking in return, “Truce?”

Weasley nodded, “Yeah, alright, truce.”

They both shifted as if to shake hands on it and both changed their minds.

Granger rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’ll talk to Harry about sorting this all out.”

Draco frowned, “By tomorrow?”

“ _Tomorrow_?” Weasley said.

Granger crossed her arms over he chest, “I don’t really think-”

“I’ve waited for ages already,” Draco said petulantly. “I don’t see why I should have to wait at all. Tomorrow is being rather generous if I do say so myself.”

“Spoiled brat,” Weasley muttered.

“ _Oh_. And I suppose you’d be as patient as a saint if it were you in the same position,” Draco said.

Weasley scoffed, “Dunno. Hermione isn’t the type to kiss and run off. Besides, even if she were, I’d still be me and not some whiny little brat who only escaped prison by the skin of his teeth.”

“Ron!” Granger chastened.

Draco sighed, saying a bit quieter than he intended, “I'm quite aware of that.” He scanned the empty air around Weasley and Granger and took a guess at where Potter might be lurking. He told the blank space between the two, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

* * *

  
  


The next morning, Draco watched Castor and Pollux carrying their burden through the dim dawn light alone. He rested his arms on the stone arch and shivered faintly as a cold breeze stung his cheeks. He scrubbed his eyes wearily and yawned, wishing he could just do what Severus had and increase the dosage of wolfsbane as the potency faded. Then again, Draco was fairly certain Severus had done it that way because he enjoyed watching Professor Lupin choke down more and more of the awful potion every day leading up the full moon. It seemed unethical to say the least, but Severus wasn’t exactly a nice man.

The sound of brisk footsteps made Draco turn his head, “Good evening, Headmistress.”

“I believe it's technically morning now, Mr Malfoy,” McGonagall said briskly as she walked over to stand beside him, “Still having ‘nightmares’?”

Draco nodded, “Yes, they still crop up quite regularly.”

“I hadn’t seen you recently. I was starting to think you’d been given a reprieve?”

“I…” Draco nudged his sleep-addled mind to try and put this cleverly in a; we’re not talking about me brewing wolfsbane every month except we are, sort of way, “the dreams weren’t quite as bad for a few days.”

McGonagall nodded.

Draco was just tired enough to ask something he’d always wanted to know, “Why are you up this late, Headmistress?”

McGonagall glanced over at him, “It’s my duty to make sure the castle is safe and secure, it’s just as well to do it when I’m feeling restless.”

Draco looked down at his hands with a grimace.

“We’ve all done things we’ve regretted. I believe it’s what we do afterwards that is most telling of our character,” McGonagall said.

“Some have a lot more to regret than others,” Draco said with a bitter, humourless smile.

McGonagall squeezed his shoulder briefly, “You’re doing well, Mr Malfoy. I’ve been very pleased to see your progress.” She turned back towards the stairs, “Now, back to bed with you or you’ll end up dozing off during lessons.”

“Yes, Headmistress,” Draco said, nodding to her in thanks and heading back to the dungeons.

* * *

  
  


  
  


“You know how I promised we’d go together to Hogsmeade this weekend?” Pansy said with utterly unconvincing nonchalance as they slowly walked out of the common room to go to breakfast.

“You mean the one in a few days? The last weekend before the winter hols? When we were going to finish our shopping and enjoy getting out of this merlin-forsaken castle? That promised Hogsmeade weekend?” Draco said.

Pansy frowned at him, her cheeks puffing out slightly in indignation, “ _Yes_.”

“Go on then,” Draco said generously.

“Melanie and Jenna asked me to come along with them,” Pansy said.

“Who?” Draco asked.

“Um,” Pansy smoothed her immaculate hair nervously, “They’re seventh-year Hufflepuffs, a year below us.”

Draco bit down on his automatic impulse to mock them and nodded for her to go on.

“During sixth year, you were so distant, and everyone was so tense, and sometimes I’d see Mel and Jen in the loo, and we’d talk about make-up and nail polish, that sort of thing. They got sent to america for our seventh year, so they missed worst of it. We started sitting together in advanced charms theory…” she trailed off, tugging a lock of hair, “They’re nice and they’ve never invited me along with them before.”

“First off,” Draco said, “you owe me-”

Pansy rolled her eyes but smiled faintly in relief.

“Second, you’ll take my emergency portkey with you.”

“What?” Pansy froze.

Draco took a few steps before realising she had stopped and turned back, “As a precaution.”

“I can’t take that,” Pansy said.

“ _Pansy_.”

Pansy stomped up to him. “I just can’t,” she hissed, “You’re not supposed to have it. If I use it they might throw you in-  _I can’t_.”

Draco said, “They’re Hufflepuffs, so I doubt you’d have to-”

“I’ll have my wand-”

“Wands are  _not_  reliable,” Draco said, unable to keep the undercurrent of anger out of his voice, “They break, they get lost, they’re easily stolen and then what will you do?”

Pansy eyes widened.

Draco took a step back, forcing the swell of sudden emotions down. “Sorry, Pans,” he said faintly, hurrying down the hallway.

Pansy ran to catch back up, grabbing hold of his arm to slow him down, “Fine. I’ll take the portkey, but I won’t use it unless I absolutely have to… and do I owe you one.”

“Perfect, I'll be taking that favour now," Draco said as they came into the great hall.

“You’ll what?” Pansy said, following his gaze and dropping his arm like it was toxic, “I don’t know what you’re planning, but I want  _nothing_  to do with it.”

“Too late, you agreed,” Draco said, taking a deep breath to fortify himself. He grabbed Pansy by the wrist before she could escape and pulled her to the Gryffindor table.

Potter had Weasley and Granger on one side of him, Longbottom on the other and most of the bench across from him was entirely unoccupied.

Draco sat opposite Potter, holding onto Pansy’s wrist in a death grip until she stiffly sat down next to him, hissing in his ear, “You’re dead to me.” Whilst the entire table looked at them with a mixture of disbelief and growing anger which Draco did his best to ignore.

Draco put on a cheerful smile he did not feel in the least and said, “Good morning, Potter.”

  
  


  
  



	10. Chapter 10

Potter’s surprise only lasted a few seconds before sliding into irritation, “Really, Malfoy? You couldn’t even wait until after breakfast?”

“What’s going on?” Longbottom asked, looking at Draco and Pansy with narrowed eyes.

Potter sighed.

“Well, Potter and I-” Draco started but wasn’t able to say anything more as Potter lunged over the table, to press his hand over Draco’s mouth.

“Don’t you dare-”

Draco raised both eyebrows and licked Potter’s palm.

Potter snatched his hand back, sitting down so heavily he nearly fell backwards.

Draco licked his lips, “Have you ever heard of silencing spells, Potter? Second-year charms, I believe.”

“How about you just learn to shut up?” Potter said, wiping his hand off on his jeans.

“Where would be the fun in that?” Draco asked.

Potter leaned forward, lowering his voice, “You didn’t have to go and tell Ron and Hermione  _everything_.”

“Anything I told them, they would tell you, and anything I told you would eventually get back to them. You’re like a weird symbiont, I was just saving time,” Draco said.

Potter frowned, “I was still working things out-”

“ _Besides_ ,” Draco said with a faint smirk, “You weren’t even there. You were, what was it, not feeling well?”

“You fucking knew I was there!”

“Did I?” Draco said, and jumped when Potter kicked him sharply in the shin. Draco glared at him and kicked him back, getting a return glare for his efforts.

Weasley turned to Granger saying, in what he probably thought was a whisper, “I thought you said they liked each other?”

Granger glanced up from the stack of notes floating six inches above her plate.

Weasley persisted, “Cause it seems more like-”

Granger sharply cleared her throat, giving Weasley a look then turned to Draco and Potter, “You two should eat something.” She put a hand on Weasley’s shoulder and whispered something in his ear.

“No really, what’s going on?” Longbottom asked.

“Yes Potter, what is going on?” Draco asked pointedly.

Potter glared at him. He told Longbottom, “Malfoy and I are… working some things out.”

Pansy snorted, tossing a grape into her mouth.

“ _Eat_.” Granger said flatly.

“Yes Potter, you’re a growing boy we can’t have you missing meals,” Draco teased, reached over to fill Potter’s plate with the usual mound of garbage he ate most mornings.

Potter smacked his hands away, muttering in embarrassment, “Fuck off.”

“Cut it out, Malfoy,” Longbottom said.

“Yeah, and get away from our table while you’re at it!” Finnigan yelled down the table.

“It’s  _fine_ ,” Potter snapped at no one and everyone in general. Potter glared at Draco and then pointedly at his empty plate, “What about you, then?”

Draco shrugged obnoxiously.

Potter glared at him and grabbed the tray of toast and dumped half a loaf on Draco’s plate then shoved the teapot at him.

Draco poured himself some tea and nibbled on a piece of toast.

“Oh…  _Ugh_ ,” Weasley leaned towards Granger, “I can see it now.”

Granger nodded silently.

“Is this ‘sit at other tables’ day?” Luna asked cheerfully as she sat next to Pansy.

Pansy shrugged, “Might as well be.”

Luna leaned over her plate to look around Pansy, “Hello, Draco. We haven’t talked in ages.”

Draco pulled the slice of toast out of his mouth, “Good morning, Luna.”

“Wait-  _Wait._  Luna?  _Luna_?” Potter said.

“What, Potter?” Draco asked.

Potter pointed at him, “ _That_! You call everyone else by their last name!”

“She asked me to call her Luna; it would be rude to refuse,” Draco said.

Potter gaped at him, “And what about everyone else?”

“I don’t like everyone else,” Draco said.

Pansy leaned in front of him, “He’d do it for you though.”

“ _Pansy_!” Draco pushed her, and she rocked back into Luna with a snicker.

“He’d probably turn bright red as well,” Pansy added just to be a tit.

Draco felt his cheeks get hot, “You know, this isn’t a favour Pansy, this is a punishment, and you still owe me.”

“That’s fine. I’m rather enjoying myself now,” Pansy said.

“Oh!” Luna took Pansy’s hand, “Your nails are so beautiful!”

Pansy smiled brilliantly, " _Thank you._ ”

“I try to paint my nails but my hands aren’t very steady,” Luna said holding out her bare nails for inspection.

Pansy dug into her bag pulling out a handful of small bottles, “Would you like me to do them for you?”

“Yes!” Luna bounced with excitement.

“Now?” Potter asked in disbelief.

“Don’t forget to eat,” Draco told them.

“I only need one hand for that!” Luna said and picked up a fork, stabbing a sausage and eating it as Pansy took her other hand and picked out an orangey-pink nail varnish flecked with golden sparkles.

“You should speak for yourself.”

“Hmm?” Draco turned back to Potter.

Potter looked pointedly from Draco to his plate, “About eating. You ought to eat more than just toast.”

“Yes, well,” Draco said waving a hand dismissively.

“Draco can’t eat much when he’s anxious,” Pansy said, not looking up from each careful brush stroke, “He has a special tea for his stomach back at home.”

“I’m going to hex you,” Draco threatened.

“It’s called relatability, and you need all the help you can get,” Pansy said leisurely.

“Luna… why are you and Malfoy on good terms?” Longbottom asked, “I mean considering everything.”

“My mind healer recommended I change the context of my fears from something frightening to something benign,” Luna said, “So I owled Draco and asked to come visit.”

Pansy carefully moved Luna’s fork from one hand to the other.

Luna paused for a moment before continuing, “I visited a lot before school started. Draco would walk with me, and we’d have tea. So it’s not a scary place anymore. It’s just a place. The gardens are lovely.”

“Roses and hydrangeas and whatever else rich people waste money on,” Weasley said.

Draco picked up his mug, “Most of the rose beds are inherited, there are some varieties that we’ve tended for more than eight generations.”

Weasley rolled his eyes, “Excellent, so they’ve wasted money on it for a long bloody time.”

There was a choice insult in there about wasting money on more children than one could afford but Draco wasn’t about to be the first to break the truce. He sighed into his mug, nursing sweet milky tea.

“Not the roses. Neville, you should go and see Draco’s greenhouse,” Luna said, waving her hand to get his attention, “He grows all his own potion ingredients and has all sorts of plants I’ve never seen before.”

Longbottom leaned forward, “Really? What sort?”

Pansy put the brush back in the bottle, pulling both of Luna’s hands in front of her, “Hold still.” She took out her wand and swirled it in a complicated pattern over Luna’s hands, murmuring a quiet incantation.

Draco leaned over her shoulder to watch as the colours began to separate into yellow, orange and pinks that swirled together like a cotton candy sunset, the gold sparkling on the edges like the sun peeking through the clouds.”

“You finished the charm?” Draco asked.

Pansy smiled smugly, lifting her chin, “Of course.”

“Wow…” Luna breathed. She held her hands out to show everyone.

Granger actually stood up and walked around the table to get a closer look, gently taking Luna’s hand in her own, “This is beautiful. I’ve never seen a nail varnish like this.”

“Draco helped me make it,” Pansy said, taking Luna’s hands back.

“It was Pansy’s idea and she did all the charmwork. Unfortunately,” Draco frowned in thought, “the myrrh interacting with the pearl dust means that it takes six hours to fully set, and direct magic would disrupt the charm so you can’t cast a drying charm.”

“I think I’ve figured out a solution to that,” Pansy said, picking up a bottle of clear varnish and showing it to Draco.

Draco studied the small bottle, both the brand and the bottle were unfamiliar and a bit strange looking.

“Muggle varnish. No potion ingredients,” Pansy said.

“From your Hufflepuffs? You didn’t mention they were muggleborn,” Draco said.

Pansy said sarcastically, “I didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

“You making friends was enough to make me feel faint,” Draco said pressing the back of his hand against his forehead and slumping against her.

Pansy smacked him, trying not to smile.

Draco sat back up and gave Pansy the bottle, “So you’re hoping this won’t react with the lacquer we made-”

Pansy nodded enthusiastically, “ -and then I can use magic to protect the muggle lacquer-”

“-and it will act as a barrier.” Draco grinned, “Clever.”

“Wait.” Granger interrupted, “Have you tested it before?”

“Of course,” Pansy said in the way that obviously meant _no_.

“Is it safe to mix them?” Granger asked.

Pansy looked over her shoulder at Draco.

Draco sighed and mentally ran through the ingredients, “…The worst that could happen is Pansy’s lacquer liquefies and permanently stains everything it touches orange.”

“That’s fine then,” Luna said, “I want to see if it works.”

Granger put her hands briefly on her hips then twitched her wand, summoning a sheet of parchment from her bag and holding it under Luna’s hands, “Tilt your nails down so it won’t get on your skin.”

“You could just put your hands over Weasley’s head; you’d never notice the colour,” Draco said idly.

“Hey!” Weasley said.

Draco smirked.

Weasley gave him a brief glare.

Luna angled her hands down, leaning closer as Pansy opened the little bottle.

Draco leaned around Pansy, thoroughly interested in seeing Slytherin cleverness, Ravenclaw curiosity, Hufflepuff practically and Gryffindor recklessness meet over a bottle of nail lacquer. He had to admit he was hoping it would all go horribly wrong, but only in a funny way.

Pansy carefully applied the clear top coat on Luna’s thumb and waited. A bubble of silence formed around their little section of the table as everyone held their breath.

Nothing happened.

Pansy did the other nails and then cast a tiny protective charm over each nail. “There,” she said with a relieved sigh that turned into a pleased smile.

“It’s gorgeous,” Luna said and turned to show everyone sitting around them her nails.

Pansy screwed the cap back on the bottle, “You should reapply the protective charms every day to avoid chipping and make sure to tell me if they change or something strange happens.”

“Okay,” Luna said.

She held her hands out to Longbottom who glanced at them, “Great. Luna, what sort of plants?” Longbottom asked

“Draco’s plants? I’m not very good with names,” Luna said, “There were these pretty blueish ferns that cried and- it’s the most marvellous thing- wrackspurts are so calm and docile around them like it made them sleepy. I told Draco all about it.”

Longbottom turned a frustrated expression on Draco, “Blue fern?”

Draco took a bite of toast and sip of tea before answering, “The Fletus Fern, my great Uncle Gervaise brought back four plants from one of his expeditions into the Congolese rainforests. Since Luna took an interest, I’ve been looking into the plants more. I think it might have potential in calming potions or some variation. I've been trying to get them to spore, to grow more of them, but I can't figure out what temperature and humidity they require. It’s been very frustrating.”

“And it cries?” Longbottom said, grabbing a piece of parchment and quill to take notes, “Like condensation or an excretion? Is it milky or sap-like?”

“Malfoy.”

“Sap-like. It’s tinted blue like the plant and slightly sticky,” Draco said, “It has a sedative effect, any animal trying to eat it would be knocked out or killed depending on their size.”

Longbottom wrote this down, “And the frond shape- size- Do you have any photos or a drawing of one?”

“ _Malfoy_.”

Draco glanced over and found Potter frowning at him.

“Yes?”

“Class is starting soon, I still wanted to talk with you,” Potter said.

Draco raised an eyebrow, “No one’s stopping you.”

Potter’s eyes narrowed, “Privately.” He stood and grabbed his bag, “Come on.”

Draco hesitated, and Pansy put an elbow into his ribs, nodding for Draco to hurry up and follow.

“I’ll see if I can get you a picture, Longbottom,” Draco said as he stood and followed Potter out.

Draco kept a sedate pace behind Potter, shoving his hands in his robes as he went, unable to quite shake the unease he felt growing in the pit of his stomach.

Potter didn’t slow down, turning down a side hall and then pushing aside a tapestry of the Forbidden Forest to expose a little half circle alcove behind it, “We won’t be interrupted here.”

Draco held back, “Why are you angry?”

“I’m not,” Potter said shortly.

Draco didn’t believe that for a second, “I’m fairly certain I haven’t done anything to merit it.”

Potter pushed his hand through his hair, impatiently shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“Unless you’re still angry about me sitting at your table. That would be unusually petty of you,” Draco hazarded.

“I’m  _not_  angry,” Potter said, grabbing Draco sleeve and pulling him into the alcove and cast a privacy charm around them. “You’re just everywhere, sitting next to me in classes and talking to me strangely-”

“You’re the one that wanted to help me brew,” Draco pointed out.

“-You even sit at my table, with my friends and then you’re chatting with everyone and just…” Potter’s words trailed off.

Draco leaned back against the wall, “So it  _is_  about me sitting at your table.”

“It’s not-! It’s- it’s…” Potter slumped back against the wall opposite him and rubbed the back of his neck.

Draco pursed his lips in thought, “Is it because I wasn’t talking with you?” He watched Potter expression and was rewarded with a faint scowl though Potter tried to hide it. “I didn’t take you for the jealous type,” he said feeling pleased.

Potter’s scowl deepened.

“I am terribly sorry to inform you of this Potter, but my world doesn’t revolve around you,” Draco said.

“But you-” Potter hesitated, looking embarrassed, “You… like me, don’t you?”

The alcove suddenly felt far too close and small. Draco wrapped his arms around himself and looked at the back of the tapestry, “…You might very well take up more of my world than most people,” he conceded.

“Why can’t you just talk like a normal person?” Potter groaned.

Draco frowned at him, “ _Fine_. I am romantically interested in you. Can you understand that?” He squeezed himself a little tighter, trying not to flush.

“oh,” Potter said, looking down at his horrible shoes.

Draco wanted to kick him, “This is where you express your feelings, asshole.”

“I-” Potter hesitated, dipping his head even further so his fringe hid his eyes, “Look, I’ve never fancied a bloke before.”

Draco waited, expecting an ‘and’ or a 'but’ that didn’t seem to be coming. And in the growing silence, his mind began to fill in the blanks, “Are you saying that that kiss was just another magnificent example of your horrible impulse control-?”

“No-”

“-that you were bewitched by my good looks or the  _moon_ -”

“-That’s not what I-”

“-or this is all a horrid trick, and I had the misfortune of taking it  _seriously-_ ” Draco eyes began to ache like he might have to cry and he was not going to do it around Potter. “I’m not going to just- I’m leaving.” He said, pushing the tapestry aside.

“Malfoy!” Potter grabbed his hand, “It’s not that! It’s not any of that! Merlin! Seriously, give-”

Draco tried to shake him off, and Potter pulled harder, their feet tangling. Draco stumbled backwards, hitting the wall hard enough to knock the air from his lungs. Potter practically falling on top of him didn’t help the matter.

Draco grasped at Potter’s robes with one hand. He tried to say, You fucking dickhead, but all that came out was, “dick.”

“git,” Potter wheezed with about as much breath as Draco, letting go of Draco’s hand and bracing it against the wall.

Draco lowered his head, pressing his cheek to the top of Potter’s head and holding him a little tighter.

“What are you-?”

“Shut up,” Draco said closing his eyes and trying to ignore how his weak he sounded, “…Since the beginning, you look at me, and you hate being attracted to me. This whole time-

Potter twitched, “Hate?  _No_. I mean, confused yeah, I told you-”

“I wish you hadn’t kissed me,” Draco said.

“What?”

Draco let go of Harry’s robe, “Better to have an impossible dream than to ever think I was good enough to be with you only to-”

“Malfoy,  _listen_  for a minute would you?” Potter snapped, leaning back to look him in the eye, “I just need time, alright? I’ve got a lot to think about and get used to and why are you in such a fucking rush?”

“What sort of time do you think I have, Potter?" Draco said, "After school, you're going to go off and do something, and I'm not. I'm going to be in a home full of nightmares with only my mother and maybe Pansy for company, and that's it. No acclaim, no job that would ever have me, hated by everyone- This is my chance; this is it.”

“You still have it, you impatient prick, and plenty of time,” Potter said. He held up his hand and, “January-” ticked up a finger for each month,” February, March, April, May-”

Draco grabbed his hand and pushed it down, "That's not the point, Po-"

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“This-” Potter grabbed his face, squishing his cheeks, “-sulking.”

Draco smacked his hand away, “Am I supposed to happy about it?”

Potter rolled his eyes, “You’re so selfish.”

“ _You_  kissed  _me_! You started this!”

“I did not,” Potter retorted, “You were the one that started sitting next to me and talking to me-”

“I was getting to know you like a normal person. It wasn’t kissing! I was being friendly, kissing is quite a bit more than just being friendly,” Draco said.

Potter pursed his lips, “And you would’ve been happy with that, just being friends?”

“Of course,” Draco said confidently.

Potter narrowed his eyes, “Liar.”

Draco threw up his hands, “We’ll never know, will we? Since you started it!”

Potter stubbornly didn’t answer.

Draco sighed, “Look. The holiday break is in a week.”

Potter’s eyes widened, “Oh, that’s right. I forgot.”

“How do you manage to forget the holidays of all things?” Draco asked.

Potter gave him a sour look, “I’ve been distracted.”

“Well, it will give you lots of time, I suppose,” Draco said.

Potter nodded, “…Yeah.”

They weren’t touching anymore, but Potter was still standing so, so close.

Draco reached out and brushed the edge of Potter’s robes, “Is kissing entirely off the table?”

Potter twitched, “What?”

Draco raised an eyebrow, “A kiss, Potter. I want a proper one.”

“I- um, that would be alright,” Potter mumbled.

Draco cupped Potter’s cheek and was pleased to find it felt flushed. It was nice to know Potter got embarrassed as well even if it didn’t show on his darker skin. Potter’s eyes fluttered shut as Draco leaned down and kissed him, taking his time so he could commit every detail to memory.

“You started smiling,” Potter said, slowly opening his eyes, “I could feel it.”

Draco was smiling, “ _That’s_  a proper kiss. For now anyway."

“For now?” Potter said.

“Yes. You wanted time, Potter. Don’t tempt me.” Draco took out his pocket watch and clicked it open, “We’re late. The least you can do is walk me to class.”

“We have Transfigurations together,” Potter said.

“Then it shouldn’t be a hardship for you,” Draco said with a smirk.

  
  



	11. Chapter 11

Three more days, Draco told himself as he trudged to his potions lab, dragging his hand along the wall. He had finished four; it was more than halfway through, at least until the next month. It should have been easy, considering how much practise he had, but the last couple days always seemed like a special sort of torture. Just about the only thing he looked forward to about going home at the end of the school year was sleeping until noon if he wanted to.

The door moved under his fingertips. Draco froze, anxiety creeping up his spine. He was sure he had closed it when he left the night before. He peered through the illusionary wall. The lights were on as well.

Potter pulled off the cover off the second cauldron and set it to the side, looking up when Draco stepped inside, “I’m pretty sure everything’s ready, and I’ve washed my hands already,” he held up his hands.

Draco stared at him then let out a resigned sigh.

Potter narrowed his eyes, “What?”

“Since we were eleven years old you’ve been nothing but a test of my patience,” Draco said. He set his brewing case on the end of the table and used his freed hand to rub his temple.

Potter raised his hands in a wordless expression of pure exasperation.

Draco wanted to complain about Potter asking for time and, he had assumed, distance and yet here he was forcing Draco to exercise what little impulse control he had against the constant feeling in the back of his mind that he was running out of time. Unfortunately, he couldn’t find a way to word it that wouldn’t make him sound like a petulant child, and he had already heard enough from Potter on that particular subject for one day. He settled on, “I wasn’t expecting you to be here.”

“I shouldn’t have skipped out yesterday. Hermione said I was overreacting,” Potter said.

Draco raised an eyebrow and pulled open the drawers containing what they would need to brew, “Words of wisdom from the only person in your group with any,” Draco said.

“Hey!”

“Did she give any other helpful advice?” Draco said, turning away and going to the sink to wash his hands.

“Not really,” Potter said evasively.

Draco patted his hands dry and rolled his sleeves back down, buttoning the wrists and smoothing his hand unconsciously over his left forearm. When he came back to the table, Potter was slowly slicing the asphodel in a fair approximation of how Draco preferred it.

Draco sat on the other side of the table and selected a small clean piece of bone and the file rasp, “You don’t have to keep coming. This isn’t your obligation.”

“You want me to leave?” Potter asked.

Draco narrowed his eyes, “That’s not what I meant, as you well know.”

Potter used the edge of his knife to push the sliced asphodel into one pile, “…I want to.”

Draco knew he should take the statement at face value, but he couldn’t stop himself from prodding at it, “You want to help because it’s the right thing to do or because you want to help me?”

“Both,” Potter said without hesitation. He took out the scales and leaned over the potion instructions, “How much asphodel for each potion?”

“Two and three-quarters of an ounce,” Draco said without looking up. He shifted on his stool, his knee brushing against Potter’s.

Potter twitched at the touch but didn’t pull away. “Erm, wolfsbane uses powdered wolf bone, which can only be obtained from wolves that have died naturally, right? So how did you-?” he pointed at the piece in Draco’s hand.

“It’s not wolf,” Draco said.

“What is it then?”

“Feral dog,” Draco said.

Potter grimaced, “Dog?”

“The supplier is paid to catch ones that have gone rabid or become dangerous. He sends me the bones.” Draco said.

“So you can just replace wolf bone with dog?” Potter asked. Bottles chimed faintly as he searched for the powdered moonstone.

Draco raised an eyebrow, “Interested in potions theory all of a sudden, Potter?”

“NEWTS are coming up, and you’re the best at Potions in the school so it can’t hurt right?” Potter rambled.

“It’s certainly a way to fill the silence,” Draco said.

“I  _am_  interested,” Potter said stubbornly.

“Of course you are,” Draco said sarcastically. He explained anyway because he missed lecturing like he used to, “I had to increase the ratio of dog bone to achieve the same effect, and the potion’s potency degrades faster with dog compared to wolf. I also increased the nettle by three percent to balance the base effect of the bone because a certain level of acidity is needed to incorporate the moonstone,” Draco said.

Potter blinked at him.

Draco shook his head, “And before you ask, I get the moonstone from a muggle gem seller. It’s much cheaper. There are quite a few potion ingredients whose prices are artificially high simply because wizards have no idea about muggle markets.”

“And you do?” Potter said faintly, “You buy from  _muggles_ -?”

Draco frowned, “Absolutely not. I have better things to do. I hired a broker; she’s muggleborn and very good.”

Potter said, “Oh. Right. That makes sense.”

“You don’t have to sound so relieved,” Draco said archly.

“I mean you buying from muggles just seems impossible,” Potter said.

Draco took out the aconite, “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I do-!” Potter broke off, and winced in embarrassment, “I mean, sixth year.”

“You know the worst of me,” Draco said adding a tiny piece of aconite to the little vial of reagent and swirling it gently, “And I know all the worst of you. Yet somehow, here we are.”

Potter put away all the bottles and boxes while Draco finished preparing the aconite.

Potter tapped his fingers on the table. He caught Draco’s eye and grinned, “We both have awful taste in blokes.”

Laughter bubbled out of Draco without warning and he nearly dropped the parchment of aconite in his hand. Potter caught his wrist and took the aconite from him and the look in Potter’s eye- it left him more breathless than the laughter. He had had Potter intensity directed at him before but it was always in anger and this, this wasn’t anger.

Draco bit his bottom lip, turning his hand and catching Potter’s hand in his, “You’re the worst.”

“What? I haven’t done anything,” Potter said

“That joke was terrible-”

“You laughed,”

“-and no flirting when brewing.”

“I wasn’t flirting!” Potter protested.

Draco gave him a look and squeezed Potter’s hand before letting go, “No flirting.”

“Is this on the brewing rules, right after washing your hands?” Potter joked.

“It’s on  _my_  list of rules because it’s a safety hazard to try and brew when you’re too turned on to focus properly,” Draco said.

Potter’s eyes widened and he glanced down at the table.

Draco smirked in amusement, “You embarrass too easily, Potter.”

“Most people don’t just say things like that,” Potter protested.

“I wouldn’t advise hanging around any drunk Slytherins then, or Pansy, at any time.” Draco said, “Not that she would. Should we get started?”

Potter nodded fervently.

Draco didn’t need to worry about Potter flirting. Just like when they brewed together before, Potter was very quiet when he was focused on something, and moving from decanting vials of wolfsbane, to washing out cauldrons, to assisting Draco in between all of that didn’t leave him time for anything else.

“I’ll do the last one,” Potter said. He took the instructions and the tray of ingredients next to the cauldron he’d just finished cleaning.

Draco sprinkled in the moonstone, “Don’t forget the base and my spare stirring rods.”

“You’re not going to stop me?” Potter asked, taking the bottle of base, “or make me wait until you can watch?”

“You’ve seen me brew it enough times that if you can’t at least produce a half decent facsimile at this point, I’m not certain I’d trust you with a butter knife,” Draco said fighting back a yawn and picking up the next square of parchment.

Potter grinned, “And there are instructions. Did you make this for me?” He held up the piece of parchment.

Draco did. He was not under any circumstances inclined to admit it, “I always bring a copy to make certain I haven’t missed anything.”

Draco put in the aconite and began stirring, counting under his breath to twenty-nine and a half, taking out the stirring rod and dispelling the flame under the cauldron. He watched the colour and gave the potion one more sniff to make sure it was correct and then sat back on his stool with a sigh.

Potter had already started his potion, his brow furrowed in concentration. Every time he leaned over the cauldron to check the colour, and the smell, the steam would make his hair curl just a little bit more at the ends. Potter would try to push it out his eyes with the back of his wrist and it would flop right back into his eyes.

It was truly regrettable when Draco had to decant his potions and could no longer watch such high-quality entertainment.

Once Draco was finished cleaning up, he went over to check Potter’s potion as he dispelled the fire.

“It looks right?” Potter said.

The potion slowly stopped bubbling as it settled. Draco sniffed it, narrowing his eyes. “A little watery and the smell is…sharp?”

Potter blinked at him.

“Slightly too much base and you stirred too long after adding the asphodel.” Draco hazarded.

Potter shrugged helplessly.

“It should still be fine.” Draco opened the bottom of his potion case and took out a long thin box, “I’ll test it to make certain.”

“Because we have so many werewolves handy,” Potter said sarcastically.

Draco raised his eyebrow and opened the case of small cloth figures. They were all made of undyed fabric, in a human enough shape with a single thick grey-black hair sewn onto the chest of the doll.

Potter’s eyebrows shot up, “Dolls?”

“Poppets,” Draco said rolling his eyes. “All professional potion brewers used to test their potions with them until mice became more popular.”

Potter studied the little cloth dolls, “Are they like voodoo dolls?”

“I haven't studied Haitian magic so I don't know,” Draco said picking up an eyedropper, “Poppets can be tied to a specific person and used to transfer sympathetic magic to them, although it weakens the spell in question, and its usually not used for good magic as you might imagine.”

Potter nodded.

“A poppet can also be used to imbue an object with a general humaness,” Draco waved a vague hand and took a small amount of the potion in the eyedropper and put two drops on the doll, one at the mouth and one at the heart.

“So that’s just a person stand in?” Potter asked.

“Not quite. That would only be useful to make sure the potion wasn’t lethal. It also has to test if it’s strong enough to effect werewolf transformation.”

Potter stiffened, alarm colour his features, “So it is tied to someone?”

“Greyback,” Draco said.

“He’s-” Potter’s expression switched to confusion, “-dead.”

“Yes, but the hair,” Draco pointed to the poppet, “is werewolf. So the poppet is a werewolf-person stand in.” He took out his magnifying loupe and examined the poppet for signs of degradation and checked the hair; which had correctly had changed from the thick wiry hair of a werewolf to a finer, smooth wolf-like fur.

“How do you have Greyback’s hair… and so much of it,” Potter looked over at the array of dolls still in the box.

Draco looked up and gave Potter his best impression of Pansy's  _are you stupid_  expression, “He lived in my house.”

“Oh,” Potter’s eyes widened, “I knew that.”

“Yes and he shed like a cat with mange. I have a jar of the stuff at home.” Draco looked at the poppet one more time and then put everything away, dissolving the magic on the doll before he vanished it.

“Malfoy…” Potter said hesitantly, “There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you.”

Draco grabbed his stool and sat across from Potter, leaning his elbows on the table, “Go on then. From your tone I’ll just anticipate being upset by it now, shall I?”

Potter rubbed the back of his neck, “How’d you start all this?”

Draco raised an eyebrow and Potter gestured to the cauldrons around them.

“I told you,” Draco said.

“You told me you were doing it and that you started this summer. I just wanted to know why,” Potter said.

Draco sighed and rubbed his face. He wanted to lie. Yet he also knew from experience it wouldn’t go well in the end. But the reason was awful.

“Malfoy?”

“Shh.” Draco glared at him, “I’m thinking.”

“You need to think about it?” Potter said.

“Yes, well, there is such a thing as making a good impression, and I realise it’s a lost cause in my case, and you can’t understand on account of being a walking good impression-”

“What?” Potter laughed, “I am not. And I get it, sort of. Just tell me Malfoy.”

“Decant the potions and wash out the cauldron?” Draco said.

“Malfoy-”

“I’ll tell you,” Draco said impatiently, “We can finish working at the same time. I don’t want to be here all night.”

Potter smiled like he knew Draco just didn’t want to say it to his face, and got up, retrieving the vials.

Draco put his hands on the table and stared at them, “I was… bored.”

“What?” Potter said as he came back, “You were-”

“I was bored.” Draco repeated with a huff, “After the war, we were under house arrest. Father was tried fairly quickly but Mother and I… weren’t priorities. Our trials were months later.” He took a deep breath and went on, “We weren’t allowed to leave the manor or cast magic. Our wands were confiscated. But brewing was either allowed or untraceable.”

Potter put funnels into the vials and poured the potion between them.

“I started with brewing potions we needed, calming draughts, dreamless sleep, invigorating draughts. Then I restocked any potion we might need,” Draco threaded his fingers together, “And cleaned out the greenhouse, restored what I could, started growing my own plants.”

Potter said taking his empty cauldron to the wash basins, “And then you just started brewing for everyone else?”

“I read an article about potion shortages due to so many apothecaries being closed in the war. I got our solicitor to find out what was needed and a couple charities that were trustworthy to send them to.”

“Wait, you sent your lawyer out on errands?” Potter asked in amusement.

Draco glared over at the sinks, “He’s paid enough and knowing that lazy bastard he had one of his paralegals do it for him anyway. And there wasn’t anyone else. We weren’t allowed contact with anyone but family and our solicitor.”

“Then how’d you deliver them? Wouldn’t the aurors check that sort of thing?” Potter asked.

“House elves,” Draco said.

“But couldn’t they have got you wands and anything else you wanted?” Potter asked.

“Yes,” Draco said. “As you have so masterfully shown on several occasions, house elves are often overlooked by wizards.”

Potter winced, his expression darkening, “Dobby died,” he said quietly.

“I heard,” Draco said.

Potter was quiet, rinsing the cauldron and drying it with a quick charm. He finally said, “He died helping us escape your house.”

“He was a friend to you, and I’m sorry for your loss,” Draco said carefully.

“You sound like a greeting card.” Potter said coldly, dropping the cauldron back on the table with a thunk, “You aren’t sad he’s died.”

Draco took a shaky breath, “I rather regret anyone died.”

“He worked for you,” Potter said.

“I didn’t know him.”

“You  _owned_  him.”

“I didn’t know him!” Draco stood.

“But you-”

“I can’t change the past, Potter!” Draco snapped, hitting the table top in frustration.

Potter’s hand closed over his, “Wait. Wait-” he hesitated, and added quickly, "You’re right. The past is the past. I just still get worked up about things like that sometimes.” Potter explained looking guilty and torn and so sad it made Draco’s chest ache, "Sorry, it's... still hard sometimes."

Draco frowned furiously at Potter then grabbed him by the front of his robes, pulling him close and hugging him as hard as he could.

“Malfoy-” Potter floundered, “What are you doing?”

“You’re the worst,” Draco muttered.

“You’re hugging me?”

“I wanted to hex you,” Draco said sourly, “I want to curse you and call you an idiot and then you went and apologised.”

“So you hugged me,” Potter said.

“To keep myself from hexing you,” Draco said.

Potter hummed absently, he slid his hands around Draco’s back and tentatively squeezed back.

Draco shivered, He felt suddenly and inexplicably like crying. It was wretched. “It’s inconsiderate. And rude,” he complained

“Sorry,” Potter laughed.

“Yes, because that helps,” Draco grumbled.

Potter pressed his face into Draco’s shoulder, “What were you going to curse me with?”

“Incarcerous,” Draco said.

“Just ropes? That’s…”

“A very strong incarcerous and a silencing spell and then I would have left you here until morning,” Draco said.

Potter hugged Draco even tighter, “I like this much better.”

“What did I say about flirting?” Draco said, trying to sound stern.

Potter tried to stifle a laugh in Draco’s sleeve, “You’re such an ass.”

  
  



	12. Chapter 12

“Draco are you here? We- Fuck!-” Pansy gasped as she stepped around Draco’s bed, “-Draco! You startled me! What are you doing?”

Draco blinked, looking up at Pansy, “I was thinking.”

“Sitting on your bed in the dark?” Pansy said.

Draco charmed the lights back on, “I was about to leave and-”

“Started thinking,” Pansy finished, “which is never good.”

Draco nodded, smoothing down his robes and starting to get up.

“Don’t bother,” Pansy said, sitting down next to him, “You might as well tell me.”

Draco stared at her and then at his hands, “I’m not sure I understand it myself. My head is a mess.”

Pansy shrugged, “When isn’t it? Dump it all out, and I’ll sort through.”

“It’s-” Draco frowned, “-He seemed guilty that he was upset, like he wasn’t supposed to be. And I hated it, that look on his face. I just-I,”

“This is Potter we’re talking about?” Pansy asked.

“Yes,” Draco said, “It’s like he thinks he’s not allowed to grieve- that can’t be right.”

“It might be,” Pansy said, “I know you don’t read the papers but they treat him like the golden beacon of the future or something.”

Draco took a deep breath, “It was meant to be fun- It  _was_  fun at first with the list and plans and now…”

“And now?” Pansy prompted him.

“Now it’s terrifying,” Draco said. He looked at Pansy helplessly.

“It’s gone beyond a crush and thinking he’s not bad to look at,” Pansy said.“You really care about him now.” 

It wasn’ta question.

Draco tried to swallow the ache caught in his throat.

“Draco?” Pansy asked softly.

“The more I like him, the more I’m afraid he just…”

“Just thinks you have a cute bum,” Pansy said.

Draco grimaced.

Pansy leaned her head on his shoulder.

“He says he’s never liked another bloke before. What if I end up just being… a mistake?” Draco said.

“No.” Pansy said firmly. She took his hand and squeezed it, “Potter always takes everything far too seriously. I can’t be sure about much, but this isn’t an experiment or a game or a mistake.”

Draco chewed his bottom lip anxiously.

“Enough pointless worrying!” Pansy stood and pulled Draco to his feet with her, “We both dropped divination for a reason, Draco, we’re pants at seeing the future. So let’s have breakfast in the kitchens and do charms revisions until all you can think about is pronunciation and wand movements.”

“Okay,” Draco squeezed Pansy’s hand, hoping she could feel his gratitude.

* * *

  
  


Draco looked over his shoulder when he heard someone running up behind him in the hall. He frowned and then did his best to wipe the expression from his face as Granger caught up to him.

“Going to arithmancy? I’ll walk with you,” Granger said.

Draco wanted to ask what the fuck she wanted but forced himself to be polite about it, “Can I help you, Granger?”

Granger forced a cheery smile on her face, “I was surprised you didn’t join Harry for breakfast this morning.”

“I was sleeping in,” Draco lied, “and aside from Luna who also came from a different table, I wasn’t exactly welcomed with open arms.”

“Everyone got along fine,” Granger said firmly.

Draco sighed and tried again, “Can I help you with something, Granger?”

“Are you going to Hogsmeade this weekend?”

Draco looked at her, trying to read her intent.

Granger looked back; her only expression was determination.

“No,” Draco said, “I was planning on catching up on some sleep.”

“So Harry didn’t ask you?” Granger asked.

“No,” Draco said.

“And you aren’t going with Parkinson?”

Draco was almost entirely certain this was a new and unbearable form of torture, “…As far as I was aware,  _No_  is a definitive statement without exceptions.”

Granger shot him a glare, “I’ll get to the point then. I’d like to invite you along with our group when we go to Hogsmeade on saturday. Harry also wants to sleep in, so we’re planning to stay here until after lunch, go into town for the afternoon and have dinner in Hogsmeade.”

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. It would be awful. He just knew it but… he still had a few gifts to buy, and there was a good chance he wouldn’t be jinxed or spit on if he were with the golden Gryffindors. It would save him a lot of trouble.

“Fine,” Draco said.

Granger nodded. “There’s something else.”

They stopped in front of the classroom.

Draco managed to stop himself from asking  _What?_  but couldn’t quite himself from grimacing.

Granger took a deep breath, “Look; I wanted to apologise for what I said in Potions the other day about leaving Harry alone so he could have a normal year. It never occurred to me that you were trying to do the same thing.”

It never even occurred to her, of course not. Draco’s mouth pressed into a thin line. He nodded stiffly, “Apology accepted.”

Granger nodded like everything was well sorted, “Saturday, right after lunch at one, we’re going to meeting up at the doors?”

“I’ll endeavour not to be late,” Draco said and gestured towards their classroom.

“Good,” Granger said and went inside, Draco a few steps behind.

* * *

  
  


“Granger invited me to join you lot tomorrow,” Draco said.

Potter twitched and dropped the all asphodel in his hand. He managed to cast a shielding charm around the top of the cauldron before it belched. The muddy potion splattered across the invisible barrier, falling back into the cauldron as he dispelled it. “She did?”

“Yes. Would you rather I didn’t?” Draco asked.

“No, that’s fine, if you want to.” Potter hesitated, “I thought you’d be going with Parkinson.”

“She has plans with some other friends,” Draco said.

“Oh… Right.”

Draco stirred his potion, “Why did Granger ask me to come?”

“Well…” Potter frowned and sighed, looking mildly embarrassed, “Hermione said I need to get to know you better.”

“She’s not wrong,” Draco said.

Potter smiled ruefully, “She rarely is.”

When Draco finished his potion, he went over to watch Potter finish brewing. It ended up being very nearly perfect. When Draco told him so, Potter looked so flustered and pleased Draco knew he had yet another memory to add to his pensive.

* * *

  
  


Draco stared at his lunch, chasing a lump of potato around the bowl with his spoon. He could hear the Gryffindors loudly laughing and joking across the hall like someone had cast a  _sonorous_  on them.

“Draco,” Pansy said.

He looked up in time to see Pansy levitate an olive and fling it across the room where it bounced off Weasley’s head.

Draco grinned, “Were you aiming for Weasel?”

“I was now,” Pansy said.

Weasley glared around the room. Pansy smiled sweetly when he looked at them, flipping him off as soon as he looked away.

“Miss Parkinson,” McGonagall called from the head table.

“Yes, Headmistress?” Pansy asked.

McGonagall pursed her lips, “Behave yourself.”

“Of course, Headmistress,” Pansy said, the picture of innocence.

Draco ducked his head so McGonagall wouldn’t see him laugh. “You’re going to get detention if you’re not careful,” Draco warned.

“I’ve never had detention, and I’m not going to start now,” Pansy scoffed.

Draco frowned, “Never?” He tried to remember if she had and shook his head in disbelief, “I’m impressed.”

“I’m a very impressive person,” Pansy said.

“How do you manage it? Because I know it’s not by following the rules,” Draco said.

Pansy shrugged one shoulder, “You just can’t take it too far. I really don’t think you could manage.”

“What exactly are you insinuating?”

Pansy poked at her half-eaten quiche, “You’re not capable of subtlety, darling.”

“I can be,” Draco said.

She raised an eyebrow.

Draco glared at her, “Oh, go jump in the lake.”

Pansy laughed so hard she snorted.

“It’s not funny.”

“Is so,” Pansy grinned. She bumped his shoulder, “Look if things get too awful with the Gryffindor’s you can always come find me.”

“I don’t think your new friends would like that very much,” Draco said.

Pansy shrugged again, “I had plans to introduce you to them eventually anyway.”

“Really?” Draco said in surprise before he could stop himself.

Pansy bumped his shoulder a little harder, “Yes,  _really_. I know you’re capable of behaving yourself if you want to-”

“So,  _now_  I can be subtle?”

Pansy rolled her eyes, “-and I’m sure they’d at least pretend to like you. Jenna was really impressed by the nail varnish you made for me.”

Two girls stood up from the Hufflepuff table and waved enthusiastically at Pansy. They were quite possibly the most put together people he had ever seen. Their hair was coloured and perfectly curled for one, silky smooth for the other, with immaculate makeup and clothes that looked quite stylish if completely unfamiliar to him.

Pansy looked like their foil with her dark hair and understated makeup and simple, elegant clothing but she used to be just like them, not a handful of years ago before the war and her mother and Slytherin conformity had dampened her.

“I have to go,” Pansy stood and grabbed her cloak, “Granger said you’d all be having dinner in Hogsmeade?”

Draco nodded.

“I might join you, If I’m feeling up to it,” Pansy said as she hurried to meet up with Melanie and Jenna.

Draco ate a few more bites of stew, tearing up a roll and dipping it into the broth, keeping an eye on Potter and his friends. As they began to stand and gather their things, Draco pushed his plate back and got to his feet, following them out into the hall.

Granger seemed to be in charge of the expedition and ordered them all ready to go when Weaslette and Luna joined them a few minutes later.

Draco un-shrank his cloak and pulled it around his shoulders as they stepped outside. The snow was half melted into slush and squelched underfoot.

“Hey. Malfoy,” Longbottom said awkwardly. “Um, thanks for the pictures and all the notes on that fern.”

“It was no problem; I had Tulip get everything. It was all in order I hope,” Draco said.

Longbottom blinked, “Tulip... oh, like a house elf? That would explain the finger in half the pictures. I thought they were a bit odd looking.”

Draco sighed, “I trust at least some of the pictures were clear?”

“They were fine! Really quite great, nothing to be punished for or yelled at or anything,” Longbottom said quickly.

“Tulip’s enthusiasm for photography has not yet translated to much in the way of skill. She’s a bit – well, that’s why I asked her to take a lot of them.”

Longbottom seemed a bit dazed by his response, “Uhh. Okay. I was actually- I was wondering, if I could see the plant, in real life. Sort of, visit, maybe?”

“Of course,” Draco said, “Whenever you like.”

Longbottom relaxed ever so slightly, “I was hoping, maybe during the break. And Luna said she’d like to come along.”

“Just owl ahead.” Draco said and added, as another thought occurred to him, “The greenhouse can be accessed from the gardens. You don’t have to come into the manor at all if you’d rather.”

“Really?” Longbottom said with palpable relief, “That’d be-” he cleared his throat, “I mean, thanks, Malfoy.”

Draco nodded his head graciously, “Of course.”

Longbottom offered another awkward polite smile and excused himself to go stammer at Abbot who responded with an equal amount of blushing.

“Aren’t they cute?” Luna said, quite suddenly at his elbow.

“To someone, I’m sure,” Draco said diplomatically.

Weaslette latched onto Luna’s arm, “Luna, you promised you’d walk with me, remember?”

“Yes,” Luna said. She gave Draco a smile and little wave as Weaselette pulled her ahead of him on the road.

Without realising it, Draco had somehow ended up at the very tail end of the group, and aside from Luna and Longbottom, no one had even acknowledged him. It was strange how this group of people could feel more alone than he ever felt by himself.

As he slogged along, Draco saw a figure had held back by the side of the road, waiting for him.

Draco smiled, “Hullo, Potter.”

“Hi,” Potter said, falling in step with him, “I got caught up with Ron and Hermione, or I’d have found you sooner.”

“Abandoning me in the lion’s den, how cruel,” Draco said.

Potter hesitated and then grinned, “I think the common room would be the lion’s den. This more like the open savanna?”

“Still amongst the enemy,” Draco said.

“And really, a snake amongst weeds isn’t really going interest lions.”

Draco frowned, “I could be trampled.”

“By lions?” Potter pressed.

Draco sighed, “Yes, fine. You’ve ruined my wonderful analogy by taking entirely too literally. I hope you’re happy.”

“Very,” Potter said, still grinning. “It’s a shame about the snow. Maybe it will snow again before Christmas.”

“Up here, quite likely. Down in Wiltshire snow is quite rare,” Draco said.

“You could always conjure some,” Potter suggested.

Draco shook his head, “Conjured snow is rubbish. Ice with thoughts above its station.“

Potter laughed.

Draco smiled, feeling far too pleased with himself, “Well it is. Have you ever made some? It’s-”

“Nice cloak, Malfoy,” Weasley said.

Draco hadn’t noticed them before. Either he and Granger had held back, or Draco and Potter had caught up at some point.

Draco looked down at the grey wool cloak trimmed with soft white fluff and gave Weasley a suspicious glare, “Thank you.”

Weasley grinned.

“Ron,” Granger sighed.

“Is it your mums?” Weasley asked, his tone right on the edge of malicious and teasing, “A bit girly isn’t it?”

Draco smiled, and Weasley’s expression lost some of its confidence.

“It is my mothers actually.” Draco said with a calm, bright cheer, “The warming charms are very robust.”

“A bit embarrassing,” Weasley went on, “I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing my mum’s things.”

“Knock it off, Ron,” Potter said.

“What?” Weasley said, “He’s up for it.”

Draco’s smile sharpened even further, “It’s just a cloak, and as you said, it’s a very nice one. The only reason I might be ashamed of it would be if I found being girly offensive or inferior. Which,” he said pointedly, “ _I_  do not.

“What? That’s not what I meant!” Weasley protested.

Draco added, ever so helpfully, “I think you really ought to reevaluate some of your ideas, Weasley.”

Granger narrowed her eyes.

“I didn’t mean what he said I said!” Weasley said.

Draco smirked.

“You little shit-” Weasley snapped.

“You shouldn’t start fights you can’t win,” Draco said.

Weasley jumped as a stinging hex hit him right in the backside.

“Stop being a dick!” Weaslette said, putting her wand back in her sleeve, “or I’ll tell mum what you said.”

“I didn’t-!” Weasley huffed in frustration and ran ahead, Granger on his heel, “Gin, you know I don’t think that-”

“I’m not sure if that was impressive or evil,” Potter said.

Draco shrugged, “The important thing is I’m up two to one now.”

“There are points?” Potter asked.

“There are as far as I’m concerned,” Draco said, “and I’m winning.”

Potter caught the edge of Draco’s cloak and ran his fingers over the soft white trim, “It is nice. It doesn’t seem like your style though.”

“That’s because it’s not, obviously.”

Potter let go of the cloak, leaving the unspoken question hanging in the air.

Draco sighed, “All my cloaks are either black or Slytherin green. I’m not quite stupid enough to wear them in public.”

Potter frowned, “It’s just a cloak. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“It does on me,” Draco said.

Potter frowned, his brow furrowing.

“Oh don’t,” Draco said.

“Don’t what?”

“Be stupid,” Draco said, “You can’t fix it.”

Potter kept frowning.

“You can help me pick out a new cloak,” Draco suggested. “I could use your help.”

Potter shook his head, “I don’t know anything about clothes.”

“That’s quite alright. There’s something very specific only you can do,” Draco said as they stepped onto the bustling main street of Hogsmeade.

* * *

  
  


Gladrags Wizardwear was fairly empty considering the busy crush outside. A group of Hogwarts students looked through scarves and gloves, and two older women complained about the robes young people preferred these days.

Draco went to the cloaks in the back corner. The selection was somewhat lacking, which he had expected, this late in the year most people already had their winter cloaks.

Potter wandered around the racks, squinting at the clothes like he expected them to jump out and bite him.

“Ahem,” a man sniffed.

Draco turned with a sigh, lifting his chin, “Yes?”

“I’m afraid I have to ask you to leave,” The stuffy old clerk said. His expression was of someone who had something crawl up their nose and die.

Draco raised an eyebrow, “Why?”

The man clenched his jaw, “ _Sir_ , your custom is not wanted here.”

Draco stared at the man then called over his shoulder, “Potter? Where are you?”

“Do people actually wear these robes?” Potter said from the dress robes section, looking at some magenta monstrosity with an atrocious amount of gold filigree.

“It’s a Silvere robe,” Draco said.

Potter shook his head, “It’s ugly.”

“Oh everyone knows, except maybe Madam Silvere. It’s the height of fashion,” Draco said.

“That makes no sense,” Potter said walking over.

Draco shrugged, “It costs a lot of galleons. Therefore, it must have value.”

“Mister H-Harry Potter?” The clerk stammered.

Potter grimaced.

“Yes,  _the_  Harry Potter,” Draco said, “He’s assisting me in finding a new cloak-”

“Malfoy…” Potter said.

“-unless you still want me to leave,” Draco finished.

Potter stiffened, “Why would you have to leave?”

Draco raised an eyebrow at the man.

“No! No one has to leave!” the clerk said quickly, “It was a simple misunderstanding. Can I help you find anything, Mr Potter?”

Potter narrowed his eyes, and the arsehole flinched.

“I’ll leave you to your shopping-” he stammered backing away and nearly falling over a rack of shawls. “-If you- If you need anything-”

Draco smirked.

“Is that what you needed my help for?” Potter asked, his shoulders still drawn back, stiff as a board.

“Yes,” Draco said.

“Is it always like this?” Potter asked.

“I assume.” Draco said as he flicked through the rack of robes, “I’ve only tried once before. I have my broker buy most of what I need, and if I want to pick something out personally I wear a glamour or Pansy buys it for me.”

Potter looked like a lightning storm in a bottle.

Draco took out a horrid mustard yellow cloak and held in front of himself, “What do you think?”

Potter pushed the robe down, “Why aren’t you angry?”

Draco frowned petulantly that Potter hadn’t laughed and put the cloak back, “What would be the point?”

“What? The way he treated you-!” Potter pointed at the clerk, “How can you stand it?!”

Draco rolled his eyes, “You getting angry might change things Potter, they might even change the way you want to them to. If I were to get angry, all I would get is a headline somewhere along the lines of: ‘Ex-deatheater Draco Malfoy, causes affray in local shop’. Accompanied by statements of all the witness’ that have lots of words like 'shocked, afraid, disgusted, disappointed, et cetera.”

“You’re a customer. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

Draco pulled out another cloak and looked it over critically. “Help me pick out a cloak, Potter.”

Potter frowned at him but eventually said, “These are all horrible.”

“Very true,” Draco agreed.

Potter very quickly shuffled through the rack and pulled out a plain brown cloak, “This one.”

“I’m not wearing that,” Draco said.

Potter dropped it over his arm and walked up to the counter where the clerk was watching him with increasing pallor. “You can do alterations right?”

The clerk nodded and shot to the back of the shop, returning a few moments later with a grumpy witch in her twenties with short brown hair and an exceptional number of piercings in her ears.

“I was on my break,” she said sourly.

The clerk gestured at Potter rather frantically.

She looked at Potter, “Oh, the hero guy.”

Draco bit his tongue to keep from laughing.

“It’s  _Harry Potter_ , Kate,” the clerk said, "A _very_ important customer."

“Right,” Kate sighed and gestured for them to follow her into the back where a few mirrors and changing rooms had been set up. “Sorry it’s not that I didn’t hear about the war and everything, I was in France doing an apprenticeship for, Merlin, seven years almost.”

“It’s alright,” Potter said quickly.

Kate conjured a box in front of a mirror and took the cloak from Potter’s arms and held it up. “Belch, yeah, no this is the worst.” She looked between the two of them, “Who it for?”

Potter pointed at Draco, “Him.”

Kate gestured to the box, and Draco stepped on. The cloak he was wearing floated off onto a rack and was replaced by the brown thing. With a few quick charms, the cloak was lengthened, and its seams grew to better fit his shoulders.

“What colour do you think?” Kate asked already twirling her wand, “Black? Always a classic.”

“No,” Draco said, “Not black or green or even dark grey.”

Kate looked nonplussed and then shrugged, “Well, with your skin tone warm colours are tricky…”

“How about blue?” Potter suggested.

Kate turned the cloak a pale blue and then gradually darkened it.

“There,” Potter said when it was a lovely shade of midnight blue.

Draco looked at himself in the mirror, “It’s…” he frowned, “too close to black.”

“I really like it though,” Potter said.

“As do I,” Draco said.

Kate put her hands on her hips with a frown. Then she flicked her wand out, and the colour lightened slightly, then darkened again. She grabbed the edge of the cloak, murmuring charms with the tip of her wand pressed to the fabric until the wool itself changed like it had been woven from different skeins of blue. Every movement of the cloak looked like a dark rolling wave, almost black and yet was inexplicably still very blue as the light hit it.

“Wow,” Potter said.

Draco nodded silently in agreement.

Kate didn’t seem terribly aware of them as she transfigured the lining into unfelted wool, white flecked with grey. She walked around the back of the cloak, and a spool of black thread followed her.

Draco held perfectly still as she worked, watching Potter’s amazed expression in the mirror. Ten minutes passed in silence before Kate took a step back and seemed to blink herself back to reality.

“ _Bordel de merde_ , not again,” Kate groaned.

Draco laughed and turned to see the back of the cloak reflected in the other mirror. Kate had embroidered what looked like the giant squid, emerging from a storm-tossed sea with its tentacles curling up towards the sky.

“Brilliant,” Potter said.

“I should have asked. This- Sorry, I can change it back,” Kate said quickly.

“Don’t you dare,” Draco said, “Rather, I’d like you to sign it.”

Kate blinked, “It’s an alteration…”

“Changing the colour and the fit is an alteration. This is an original work,” Draco said, “Who did you apprentice under?”

“Reboux,” Kate said fiddling nervously with her wand, “Are you sure you want me to sign it?”

Draco’s eyes widened, “Reboux? I thought she had retired?”

“My mother knew her; it was a favour,” Kate explained.

“I definitely want it signed,” Draco said. “Do you have a card? Do you do private commissions?”

“But I’ve only been working for a month? I can’t do-” Kate said numbly, putting a small signature under the kraken. She shook herself and asked as professionally as she should manage, “Do you want protection, self-cleaning, self-mending, heating charms-?”

“Everything,” Draco said.

Draco waited until she finished before sweeping off the box and pulling out his wallet.

“You pay up front,” Kate said.

“I will,” Draco said, reaching inside and taking out a small sack of coins, “This is for you.”

Kate took the coins, eyes wide, “I- I shouldn’t…. my boss-”

“Doesn’t need to know.” Draco said firmly, “You’re too good for this place. Find regular clients, build up your savings and reputation, and get your own label as soon as possible.”

“Th-thanks?” Kate said, shoving the galleons in her pocket.

“Can you do dress robes too?” Potter asked.

“Yes, of course! Uh…” Kate scrabbled for some pieces of parchment and wrote down her information for both of them. “I have wednesday and thursdays off work here but I could owl in sick for whatever work you want, dress robes, cloaks, casual robes….”

"Excellent, thank you,” Draco said.

Draco paid for the cloak and wrapped it around himself as he stepped back outside, Potter only a step behind him.

  
  
  


  
  



	13. Chapter 13

They stopped in at Honeydukes for mountains of sweets and the quill shop for ink. Potter stayed close by his side the whole time, glaring at anyone that hesitated or frowned at Draco. It reminded Draco of shopping with his father when he was young, although his father’s respect mainly came from his wealth and political clout- which came from bribes and blackmail, blackmail bought with yet more money. When he was young, it was so easy to think his father was great. He had his moments; he was a good husband and a good father- most of the time, but not a great man.

It was getting dark when they made their way into the Three Broomsticks. The pub was overrun with seventh and eighth year Hogwarts students. Potter’s lot had taken over one of the large corner tables, dragging another table up to it to fit everyone.

Potter edged through the crowd ahead of Draco and received a sarcastic cheer along with calls of what took him so long.

Potter grabbed a chair and Draco braced himself to join them without Pansy at his back.

Luna shot to her feet before Draco could sit down, “Your cloak is wonderful!”

Draco smiled faintly, “Yes. Thank you.”

Luna walked behind him and gasped, “How pretty!” She grabbed his hand and guided him in a turn to show the whole table the back of his cloak.

Quite without realizing he ended caught up talking with Luna and Thomas, making copies of Kate’s information and telling everyone to get a piece commissioned.

“You said she’s just moved back to England and only been working for a month,” Granger said.

Draco leaned back as orders of chips and pitchers of butterbeer were passed around and people shouted over one another about what else to order, “She was trained by  _Reboux._  The famous designer? Robe fashions for the last two generations were shaped by her work! And you saw my cloak. If that’s what she’s making as inexperienced as she is-?”

“It’s nice but…” Granger said doubtfully.

“She’s  _going to be_  England’s next leading designer.” Draco said, “All she needs is the money to get started. If she can get a lot of clients-”

“Why don’t you just give her the money?” Weasley said.

Draco rolled his eyes, “Because individualised piecework requires a large number of regular patrons. Our population is small, and magic means that clothing can be repaired and renewed for generations. Unique, individualised clothing that can’t be bought off the rack in a shop is how a tailor becomes a trendsetter.”

“You certainly know a lot about this sort of thing,” Granger said.

“I know a lot about a lot of things,” Draco said.

Draco sat back as the empty pitchers of butterbeer were replaced with beer and cider along with a multitude of greasy fried food.

Potter got his own plate of chips and started arguing with Weasley about the Cannon’s, while Granger began talking with Longbottom and Abbott about the exams their teachers were giving them in the few days before the holidays. Weasley kept reaching over and taking chips from Potter’s plate, and every time he did, Potter’s hand would twitch just a little, though the expression on his face never changed.

Draco waited until Weasley went to grab another and pulled the plate just out of reach.

“Hey!” Weasley complained.

Draco smirked and moved the plate even further away.

“I’m just saying-!” Weaslette said raising her voice, "-that having a type is bullshit!"

“People totally have types,” Finnigan said. “You have a type.”

“I don’t! That’s the whole point!” Weaslette said.

“Both Dean and Luna are weird arty types,” Weasley said.

“Dean isn’t weird!” Finnigan said and winced, “Sorry, Luna, it’s not a bad thing.”

“Oh, I know. It’s other people who seem to think that,” Luna said.

Weasley said, “but Harry doesn’t fit. They dated.”

Potter and Weaslette looked at another and grimaced.

“That was…” Potter hesitated.

“Weird,” Weaslette finished.

“Harry is rather creative on occasion,” Granger said.

Thomas raised his hand, “So what’s my type then?”

“Fiery!” Longbottom said.

Weaslette and Finnigan laughed.

Luna cradled her cup in both hands, “I haven’t dated enough to know really, but kindness is very important to me.”

“Mine’s Dean.” Finnigan said without hesitation,  “Never had eyes for anyone else.”

Thomas grinned, ducking his head in embarrassment, “You-”

Everyone’s eyes turned to their side of the booth.

Weasley vehemently shook his head, “Keep me well out of it.”

Weaslette snorted, “You had to get your head out of your arse to even see what was right in front of you.”

Weasel’s face went red, “S'not that. I knew, but y'know…”

Granger smiled and took his hand.

“Hermione’s type though-” Weaslette grinned.

“Jocks?” Finnigan suggested.

“No.” Granger said firmly, “It’s- they seem strong and simple, but have hidden depths and are kind and loyal, and smart in their own way.”

“That’s so romantic,” Abbott said with a sigh, pressing her hands to her chest.

Weasley managed to turn even more red, hiding his face in his pint.

“Next round?” Finnigan called.

Draco pulled out a handful of coins to pay; drunk Gryffindors were turning out to be fairly entertaining.

“I don’t think I have a type,” Potter said.

Weasley laughed, nearly choking on his beer.

“What?!” Potter said.

Weasely coughed and wiped his mouth, “You definitely have a type. First off, seeker.”

“Seeker’s not a type!” Potter protested.

“Smart,” Granger added.

Weasley nodded, “Seeker, smart-

“Could match him in a fight, fist or spells,” Longbottom added.

Granger laughed.

“Seeker, smart, match him in a fight, and anywhere from a bit clever-” Weasley looked directly at Draco, “-to so annoyingly sarcastic you want to bludgeon them to death half the time.”

Draco rolled his eyes.

Longbottom and Abbot talked about their type while everyone else got distracted by personal conversations. Their types were, unsurprisingly, very much like one another. Draco wasn’t entirely certain the two of them weren’t already dating and just hadn’t realised it yet.

“Have you dated anyone?” Potter asked.

“What?” Draco twitched in surprise.

“Dating. Have you?” Potter prompted.

“No,” Draco said. “Nothing so formal.”

“Not formal- so casual relationships-?”

Draco shook his head, “I’d rather not talk about it.”

“What’s your type, Malfoy?” Longbottom’s voice broke into their conversation.

Draco thought for a moment.“Dark hair. Sarcasm is a must. Smart, but not as smart as I am and….” he trailed off, “that’s plenty.”

Abbott said, “That sounds just like Pansy. You two are always together. Are you dating?”

“I knew I wasn’t the only one that thought that,” Potter said.

Draco gave Potter a look. He told Abbott, “No. Strictly friends.

“Oh,” Abbott frowned, “Are you- I’d always thought she had feelings for you all through school.”

“Platonic feelings.” Draco said, “She’d throw me off a cliff if I tried to kiss her, not that I would because, as stated before, I am not interested.”

Longbottom tried to stifle a laugh that was quickly descending into a drunken giggle.

A tray floated over with yet more beer and a tall, thin glass with layers of pink ice cream, clotted cream and fruit, topped with a cherry.

“A knickerbocker glory, just for you Malfoy!” Weasley said.

The table all cheered and laughed as it floated in front of him.

“As an apology for earlier. I thought it’d be right up your alley,” Weasley said with a cheeky grin.

“I think he got you,” Potter said.

“Maybe,” Draco huffed and reluctantly gave a point to Weasley. He wasn’t all too bothered by the teasing though, after all, he did get to eat it.

Draco plucked the cherry off the top and set it on his tongue, sucking the juice off his fingers. He took a spoonful of ice cream and strawberries, smiling around the spoon as he slowly pulled it from between his lips.

Potter watched with wide eyes.

Draco glanced past Potter and saw Weasley had covered his face with both hands and looked to be dying. And thus Draco reclaimed the lead. He grinned, “Thank you, so much Weasley.”

Weasley groaned, and Granger rolled her eyes.

“Please stop,” Potter said, his voice rough.

Draco swirled the ice cream, “Are you sure?” he asked and took another bite.

“I’ll have to leave if you keep doing that,” Potter said.

“Go to the loo for a quick wank?” Draco said.

“Malfoy,” Potter said.

“Fine,” Draco said. “I’m not particularly interested in putting on a show for this lot anyway.” He held out the spoon, “Want some?”

Potter hesitated and then took the spoon, having a few bites before handing it back. “It’s good.”

“Quite,” Draco said.

“Oh, Merlin,” Longbottom said faintly, “He was describing Harry.”

“What?” Abbot asked.

“Nothing! Nothing!” Longbottom said and took a big gulp of cider even though his face was already permanently pink from drink.

Draco ate the rest of the knickerbocker while watching the rest of the table slowly descend into drunkenness. It involved a lot of rude songs, shouted more than sung and rarely finished, as everyone crumbled into laughter halfway through. And everyone seemed to drift closer together.

Thomas and Finnigan were sitting with their chairs pressed side to side, Thomas with his arm around Finnigan's shoulders. Every minute or so they would look at each other and smile. Luna was playing with Weaslette’s hand in her lap, and Weaslette kept biting her lip to keep from grinning like a besotted fool. Longbottom and Abbott had fallen into whispered conversation, so they were only inches apart, as Granger leaned her head against Weasley’s shoulder.

Draco wished he could reach over and take Potter’s hand. Potter was shredding his bar mat, looking as thoughtful as one can with three pints in them. Draco slid his leg over, pressing it to Potter’s.

Potter froze and then said abruptly, “I’m going to the loo.”

“I’ll come,” Weasley said.

Draco stood to let them out of the booth, Weasley had to grab hold of Potter to keep upright. When he sat, he found himself right next to Granger who was still working on a second pint and probably the closest to sober after himself.

“You’ll take Harry back to the castle?” Granger asked.

Before Draco could even get past the shock that she’d let him take Potter back by himself, Granger added, “I still don’t like you much, but you’re better than you were, and you’re good for him. Harry doesn’t pretend everything’s okay when he’s with you.”

“What-?”

“Move,” Granger waved at him to stand up again, “I’m going to get us all some water.”

Draco stood and Granger headed to the bar. Before he even had a chance to sit again Potter was back.

“I’m done,” Potter told the table to a chorus of boos and a few weak cheers.

Weasley slumped back down at the table, “Where’s Mione?”

“Getting water,” Draco said.

“Good, smart, Mione,” Weasley said, laying down on the booth and closing his eyes.

Draco grabbed Potter’s coat and scarf, “I’ll go back with you?”

Potter nodded, pulling his arms clumsily through the sleeves.

“Night,” Potter waved to the table and began making his way through the mess of half empty tables.

Draco pulled his cloak on and followed.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The slush outside was beginning to freeze into a jagged icy crust, with patches of ice as black as the soil just waiting to trip up the unexpected drunk.

Potter stumbled and Draco caught his arm, guiding it around his shoulder, “You’re going to end up on your arse.”

“No I won’t,” Potter said.

Draco put his arm around Potter’s waist, “Somehow I doubt that.”

“I won’t because you’re holding me up,” Potter said astutely.

“If you go ass end over tea kettle I’m not going down with you,” Draco said.

Potter frowned at him, “Why aren’t you drunk?”

Draco shrugged, “I only had a butterbeer.”

“Why?” Potter asked, “Is it because it was all of us? Or your stomach?”

“And miss out on all you Gryffindors acting like morons? Not a chance,” he answered evasively.

“Hey!” Potter tried to nudge him and nearly slipped again.

Draco pulled him closer, “Could you stop being so impossible?”

“No,” Potter muttered.

They walked through the empty streets in silence. It wasn’t until they started down the road to Hogwarts that Potter spoke up again.

“I want to kiss you,” Potter said.

“Is that so?”

“Can I?” Potter asked.

Draco bit his lip at the temptation and then shook his head, “No.”

“Why not?” Potter pouted.

Draco smiled faintly, “You’re drunk, Potter.”

“I’m not,” Potter said firmly and then entirely ruined the sentiment by slipping and nearly falling in a pile of slush.

Draco pulled Potter back into proper balance, “You’re drunk enough.”

Potter frowned, “Well, that shouldn’t matter seeing as I want to kiss you all the time.”

“You do?” Draco raised his eyebrows. “Why don’t you then? I certainly wouldn’t complain.”

Potter groaned, “Because you’re gorgeous. And smart. And confident. And I have no idea what I’m doing.” He grimaced and tried to pull his knitted hat over his eyes but succeeding in pulling it half off. “I am drunk.”

“And a talkative one at that,” Draco said, cheeks flushed at the praise.

“No.” Potter lied. He took off his hat and shoved it into his pocket, pointlessly trying to pat his messy hair flat.

“Don’t bother. That disaster can’t be saved,” Draco said.

Potter pulled his glove off and stubbornly tried to work his fingers through the tangles.

“Merlin save me,” Draco muttered, pulling Potter to a stop and taking a small comb from his robes.

“You carry a comb with you?” Potter said, his tone lost somewhere between amusement and annoyance.

Draco worked the comb through slowly, letting the detangling charms do most of the hard work, “Hair this good takes effort, Potter. Even Pansy needs smoothing charms and her hair hangs straight as a board.”

“I rather like your hair after you’ve just been brewing,” Potter muttered, eyes fluttering shut as Draco used his fingers to try and make the wild black hair look on purpose, “Everyone else ends up looking like a mess after brewing and your hair gets all,” he made a sweeping motion with his hand, “loose and curling just a bit. Bloody unfair.”

Draco hummed thoughtfully and finally had to take his hands back or be forced to admit he was just playing with Potter’s hair, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Draco asked, trying, and failing, not grin.

Potter narrowed his eyes, “If you do your hair like that all the time I’ll go mad.”

“No, you won’t,” Draco said.

“Yeah, well I’ll definitely fail every NEWT I’m trying for,” Potter said.

Draco smiled, “I’m flattered.”

“Of course you are,” Potter muttered.

“I’ll make sure to limit myself to times you don’t need to concentrate then,” Draco said graciously.

“How kind of you,” Potter said sarcastically. He hesitated and reached out, taking Draco’s hand, “It’s getting late, we should get back,” he said, starting down the road.

Draco squeezed Potter’s hand, “ _Is it_?” he said sarcastically, “I hadn’t notice.”

“ You’re such as ass,” Potter said.

Draco grinned but kept quiet. Potter had his thinking face on.

Potter took a deep breath and asked, “What are you doing after school? It seems like everyone knows what they’re doing.”

Draco raised an eyebrow, “Everyone?”

Potter chewed his bottom lip, “Ron’s still going for auror, and he says he’ll work for George if that doesn’t work out. Mione’s gonna work in the Ministry. She probably has a ten-year plan to become the  Minister of Magic.”

“You have to be thirty-five to run,” Draco said.

“A fifteen-year plan then.” Potter said, “Nev says he wants to help out with the aurors but I’m pretty sure Sprout want him to take over for her, and that’d be a good fit for him. Ginny’s gonna play quidditch and Luna’s gonna work for the quibbler, Dean wants to be an artist and Seamus has been researching fireworks and explosive magic all year.”

“I’m going to assume that you brought this up because you don’t know what you want to do,” Draco said.

“I-” Potter hesitated and licked his lips, “I thought I did… I want to keep helping people and I thought being an auror would be the best way to do it, for me anyway. But-” he voice dropped to a whisper like he was admitting something horrible, “-I don’t really want to.”

Draco gave him an incredulous look, “It’s more mad to think you would.”

Potter nodded with relief, “Yeah. I was- I was going to do it anyway because I couldn’t think of anything better but then I saw what you’ve been doing and thought maybe I could do something like that….but I don’t know what that would be either…”

“You can always just get you NEWTS for now and decide later,” Draco said.

“But I ought to-”

“Why?” Draco cut him off, “You think the aurors or anyone else is going to turn you down if it takes you a year or five to decide what you want to do? You might live to be two hundred and you’re worried about the whole rest of your life now, at eighteen?”

“You make it sound stupid when you put it like that,” Potter said.

“That’s because it is,” Draco said, “Really. Of all people, you have quite literally the option of doing anything you like, even nothing if you wanted. You could be a gentleman of leisure if you wanted.”

Potter laughed, “No way! I’d drive myself barmy with nothing to do.”

“You could have seven different jobs. You could change jobs every five years. You could move to Borneo and sell ice lollies.”

“Ice lollies?” Potter laughed.

They finally got past the trees and followed the lights of the castle across the frozen lawns.

Potter huffed out a breath like a cloud, “What are you doing for Christmas? Do you do Christmas?” he asked, “I always thought it was a bit odd, wizards doing christian holidays, but is there even a magic one?  I asked Hermione once, and she started with the year something, pope so and so decided something or other, and I kinda drifted off.”

Draco smirked, “We started celebrating christian holidays because it was an excellent way of avoiding being burned at the stake as a witch. The church wasn’t keen on pagans, magic or not.” Draco said, “Before christmas most celebrated Yule. Its starts at the solstice. It’s a celebration of the darkest night of the year ending and the light coming back. The celebration can last for weeks. There’s a midwinter festival up at the standing stones every year, but I’ve never gone.”

Potter asked, “Do you celebrate Yule then or-”

“Christmas,” Draco said, “Can you imagine any spoiled Malfoy child passing up a holiday all about piles of presents?”

Potter grinned, “No. I can’t.”

“I’ll be with Mother and Pansy,” Draco said. “You’ll be spending the holidays with the Weasley’s?”

“Yeah… It’s the first without Fred. I kind of want to just pass on the whole thing, but they’ve been good to me. I want to be there for them too.” Potter went quiet and thoughtful. “During the summer, at the Weasley’s, you could feel the gap where Fred ought to have been. All the Weasley’s carried one. And Andromeda was just surrounded by emptiness. It’s awful.”

Draco squeezed Potter’s hand.

“People treat you like a gap,” Potter said softly, “I noticed it as soon as we came back for school. Everyone treats you like you’re not there.”

“I don’t give a fuck what any of them think,” Draco said.

Potter blinked at him.

Draco met his gaze, feeling nervous and defiant in turn. “I spent two years expecting to die, as a threat hanging over my father’s head. I’m not going to waste my time even thinking about people who don’t care about me.”

“I care about you,” Potter said.

Draco flushed and looked away, “I wouldn’t have put up with you this long if you didn’t.”

Potter rolled his eyes and shifted closer to their arms were nearly pressed together as they walked. “Do you think you-” he hesitated, “you might ever call me Harry like Pansy said?”

“Maybe,” Draco said.

“Maybe when?” Potter asked.

“Maybe when… I feel like I don’t have to hold back,” Draco said.

“Oh…” Potter said softly. “So-” He broke off as the door opened in front of them.

McGonagall held the door with one foot and opened a small silver pocket watch, making a point of carefully checking the time, “Cutting it a bit close aren’t we?”

“It’s was quarter past when we left,” Draco said.

“And now it’s a quarter to. You may be of age, but I’m quite certain no one needs to be out past midnight,” McGonagall said archly.

Draco exchanged a look with Potter.

McGonagall raised an unamused eyebrow, “I’m aware you think differently, all young people seem to. Thankfully you’re not in charge.”

“Yes, Headmistress,” Draco said.

Potter tried not to grin.

“Do you know how many were still there when you left?” McGonagall asked.

Potter’s brow furrowed, “There was Ron and Hermione… and-”

“Eight in our group,” Draco said, “another six at the other tables, I think.”

“That’s about right,” McGonagall said with a frown. “I’ll have to ask Hagrid to round them up.”

“Are they going to in trouble?” Potter asked, looking over his shoulder.

McGonagall shook her head, “Only if they give Hagrid trouble. I won’t have any rascally drunks causing a nuisance in my castle.” She looked down at their joined hands, and Potter squeezed so hard Draco’s hand ached. She sighed, “Try to keep out of trouble, gentlemen.”

Potter grinned. He pointed to himself, “Me get in trouble? Never.”

McGonagall sighed again and waved them through the door.

“Good night, Headmistress,” Draco said, dragging Potter inside.

  
  


  
  



	14. Chapter 14

“What are you doing exactly?” Pansy asked.

“My hair,” Draco said, frowning at himself in the mirror.

Pansy raised her eyebrow in the reflection, “Are you going for a drowned rat look?”

“No.” Draco ground out.

“Then I take it it’s not going well,” Pansy said.

Draco threw his comb into the sink and impatiently vanished the potion soaking his hair.

Pansy was trying not to grin, “So… what are you trying to do, Draco?”

“I want it to look like after I’ve finished brewing,” Draco said.

“That is a nice look on you.“ Pansy said, "A softer look than you usually go for though.”

“Can you do it?”

“It’s for Potter?” Pansy asked.

Draco pursed his lips, “Can you?”

“Is it?” Pansy said, mimicking his tone.

“Sort of,” Draco said.

Pansy rolled her eyes.

Draco crossed his arms, watching Pansy through the mirror.

“Okay, fine, so no I can’t,” Pansy said, “but Melanie could.”

“Your friend?” Draco asked.

Pansy nodded and waved for Draco to follow her, “They’re probably still in the prefect’s bath.”

“The prefect’s bath?” Draco repeated as he caught up to her, “Why-?”

“Apparently, the Hufflepuff bathrooms have no counters on the sinks, and the mirrors are too small. They used to get ready in their rooms before Jenna made prefect and they’ve done it there ever since.” Pansy said.

Pansy told the girls bath the password and pulled the door open.

Draco held back.

“Come on.”

Draco narrowed his eyes, “It’s inappropriate.”

Pansy raised an eyebrow, “ _Really_? You walk in on my dorm mates  _all_  the time.”

“Yes, but you and Millie don’t care, and Daphne’s a bitch,” Draco said.

“True,” Pansy said. She stepped inside, a few seconds later pushing the door back open, “Just Jenna and Melanie, all completely dressed.”

Draco took a deep breath and followed Pansy inside.

Jenna and Melanie were leaning against the large counter in front of a massive mirror. Bottles of all sorts covered the vanity, most of which Draco didn’t recognise outside of being muggle. There was a smell in the ait that was reminiscent of fake flowers and something faintly bitter.

Pansy wrinkled her nose, “Hairspray?”

“Yup,” The blond with perfectly smooth hair said.

The brunette said, “My curls wouldn’t hold.”

“Use the charm then.” The blond said.

“I don’t like the charm. It looks weird.”

“What-ever.” the blond rolled her eyes.

“So Draco,” Pansy said, “This is Melanie,” she gestured to the brunette with a cascade of perfect curls, “and this is Jenna,” she gestured to the blond who waved sarcastically.

“And you’re Draco,” Jenna said, “Pansy says you’re an asshole.”

“A delusional asshole,” Melanie said.

“But considering what she calls everyone else, that’s practically a compliment,” Jenna said.

Melanie nodded, “Pretty much, yeah. So nice to meet you.”

“Totally,” Jenna agreed, “If nothing else it’s nice to meet a boy who cares about how he looks.”

Melanie looked at Jenna, “I  _know_  right?”

Jenna nodded.

Pansy said, “Draco’s trying to do something with his hair-”

Melanie perked up, looking at Draco’s hair with more interest, “What sort of thing?”

“It’s so fine,” Jenna said, tilting her head.

“But not too thin,” Melanie said.

Draco blinked feeling entirely off-kilter,“It’s- After I’ve been brewing my hair gets loose and wavy,” he said, “I can’t figure out how to do it on purpose.”

Melanie and Jenna exchanged looks.

“Must have a bit of a natural curl,” Melanie said.

Jenna started sorting through the bottles on the counter, “What do you use to keep it back normally?”

“A dab of Sleekeazy’s and a touch more of Stay-sure,” Draco said.

Both Jenna and Melanie grimaced.

“Doesn’t really suit you,” Jenna said.

Melanie picked up a comb and toyed with it absently, “I always thought so as well.”

“Your features are already so sharp-” Jenna said.

“Just leaving your hair loose would help.”

Pansy smirked, “You should have seen him in first year. His hair was like a helmet.”

“Don’t,” Draco said, “That whole year was a nightmare.”

“Your whole life is a nightmare,” Pansy retorted.

“As if yours isn’t,” Draco said.

Pansy rolled her eyes.

Jenna grinned, “You’re alright.”

“Not bad at all,” Melanie said, “Sooo for now, we can just recreate the hairstyle.”

Jenna plucked out two glass bottles, looking so strangely out of place amongst all the muggle bottles made of plastic, and handed them to him.

Draco took a bit of both, working it into his hair and trying to ignore all them watching him.

Jenna cast a bubble around his head, and Melanie began filling it with a steady stream of steam.

“This sort of thing might be useful for other hairstyles,” Melanie said.

Jenna narrowed her eyes thoughtfully, “Takes a bit long though.”

“My mum would sit under one of those massive hair dryers for ages every friday,” Melanie said.

“Totally,” Jenna agreed, “but witches are so-”

“-Impatient.”

“Exactly,” Jenna said.

“Brewing takes time,” Draco said holding perfectly still, “And makeup and nails.”

Pansy leaned against the counter, “A witch knows the value of a good thing.”

“Hopefully,” Melanie said.

Jenna sighed, “Maybe.”

Melanie and Jenna pulled their wands back, and Melanie picked up a comb that came to a point at one end, using it to carefully rearrange his hair, so it fell to one side and curved around his face.

“A good look for you,” Jenna said.

Melanie nodded, “If you do your hair when it’s still damp, in a steamy bath you can probably do it like this every time.”

Draco admired himself in the mirror, “It’s perfect.”

They both nodded.

“This was interesting,” Jenna said.

“We should hang out again,” Melanie said.

“Cool. Lets meet up later,” Pansy said, grabbing Draco’s arm and leading him out of the bathroom. She let out a huff of relief as the door clicked shut.

“I told you I was capable of being subtle,” Draco said.

Pansy smacked his arm, “Oh, shut up.”

Draco had to stop himself from reaching up to touch his hair. It tickled his cheek. “This is going to take some getting used to,” he grumbled.

Pansy hummed absently, linking her hands behind her back, “Last night must have went well then.”

Draco couldn’t stop himself from grinning, “I did buy a fantastic cloak. I’ll show it to you tonight.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Pansy said, “What happened with Potter?”

“He’s a talkative drunk,” Draco said happily.

“What did he talk about?” Pansy asked.

Draco gave her a look, “None of your business, you gossipy cow.”

Pansy stuck her tongue out at him.

“He did hold my hand though.”

Pansy put her hand to her mouth, and mock gasped, “ _He held your hand?_ ”

“You asked,” Draco huffed.

“Yes,” Pansy said, “but you two are completely ridiculous.”

“We’re not,” Draco said.

A smirk crept onto Pansy’s face, “You act like you’re fourteen.”

“I resent that.”

Pansy’s smirk grew, “Oh, poor baby.”

Draco picked up his pace, getting ahead of Pansy within a few strides.

“Stop being- tall!” Pansy shouted, trotting to catch up. She tried to grab Draco’s arm to slow him down, and he raised it up out of reach.

Draco lifted his chin with a sniff, “Sorry, what were you saying? I can’t hear you all the way down there.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Pansy said sourly, “It’s absolutely fucking  _fantastic_  that he held your hand. I’m sooo pleased for you.”

Draco nearly stopped in his tracks, “Were you even trying?”

“Yes.” Pansy said.

Draco rolled his eyes, “ _Sure_.”

“ So? You had a drunken heart to heart, he held your hand, and you decided to change your hair?” Pansy asked.

“An adequate summary,” Draco said.

Pansy frowned at a portrait as they walked by, “And Potter will be very pleased with your new hairstyle, I suppose?”

“Well, yes…” Draco said, “but in this case, he’s probably going to be pissed.”

Pansy missed a step and fell behind, “What?” She hurried back to his side, “What?”

Draco grinned as they reached the entrance of the great hall, “It’s going to be hilarious.”

“ _What_?” Pansy looked at him like he’d lost his mind.

Draco headed straight for the Gryffindor table and Potter in particular who was pushing his food around on his plate, wearing an awful red sweatshirt, his hair looking as if he’d literally just rolled out of bed.

“ Potter!” Draco called.

“Oh Merlin,” Pansy groaned, slowing down, “This is one of your stupid plans, isn’t it?”

Potter ducked his head, looking embarrassed.

“Potter!” Draco said impatiently.

“It is,” Pansy pursed her lips, “Fuck this nonsense.” She turned on her heel and headed straight for the Slytherin table.

Draco braced his hands on the Gryffindor table, leaning towards Potter, “Do you like my hair, Potter?”

Potter’s head snapped up and he stared at Draco, his expressions shifting through a truly fascinating array, from embarrassment, to shock then disbelief, to annoyance with more disbelief and finally outrage, “You-  _You_  little-”

“Ah-ah-ah,” Draco warned with a wicked grin, “There are children present, Potter. No swearing.”

Potter grabbed a muffin and threw it at Draco, hitting his shoulder.

Draco lurched back, throwing up his hands, but already laughing too hard to do anything more than stumble backwards. Potter stood on the bench and kept pelting him with muffins, they bounced off his arms and chest, rolling across the floor. Potter looked about ready to stand on the table when McGonagall’s voice rang out over the room.

“Gentlemen! That is  _Enough_!”

Potter dropped the last muffin and quickly jumped off the bench.

Draco braced his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath back and stifle the last few hiccuped laughs.

McGonagall left her seat and stormed past them out into the hall, “Come with me.  _Now_.”

They followed her out, Potter looking mildly sheepish about the whole thing but still simmering with pure unadulterated annoyance. Draco bit his tongue trying to keep a straight face.

The doors to a nearby conference room snapped open at McGonagall’s approach and slammed closed once all three of them were inside. “Would you care to explain yourselves?” she asked shortly.

Draco and Potter looked at one another.

“ He knew I-” Potter started.

“It was just a bit of fun-” Draco tried to explain.

“-I never should have told him-”

“-you have to admit it was-

“ENOUGH,” McGonagall said, narrowed her eyes. “One at a time. You,” she pointed at Draco.

“Potter told me he liked my hair like this-” Draco said.

“When I was drunk,” Potter said sourly.

“-but that he’d find it too distracting if I did it all the time-”

“So he did it immediately,” Potter said.

“-because it was funny.”

McGonagall and Potter glared at him.

“It  _was_.” Draco said.

McGonagall pinched the bridge of her nose.

Potter bit his lip, trying not to smile and eventually gave up entirely, “You’re ridiculous.”

“ Me?” Draco pointed to himself, “You’re the one assaulting people with baked goods!”

Potter burst out laughing.

McGonagall gave them both a stern look.

“You two of you will be eating your breakfast in the kitchens today. And there won’t be any more throwing food, or you’ll both be serving detention, regardless of who started it.” She paused and added, “Separate detentions.”

“Sorry,” Potter said. He nudged Draco.

Draco raised an eyebrow, “I didn’t do anything wrong. I just changed my hair.”

“Going out of your way to provoke someone is not blameless,” McGonagall said. “Although in this instance I can only assume it was some sort of flirting.”

Draco flushed, “I was-  _not_ -”

Potter grinned, and Draco elbowed him in the side.

McGonagall sighed, “Go eat and try actually behaving yourselves this time.” She waved her wand, and the door swung open and headed back to the hall, muttering under her breath, “It’s only six months.”

Potter followed a few steps behind but instead of going out into the hall, he shut the door again and turned to Draco with a look in his eye.

“What?”

Potter shook his head, “It’s too early for this.” he grabbed the front of Draco’s robes, pulled him close and kissed him.

Draco gripped the front of Potter’s horrible sweatshirt and kissed him back, quite happy to let Potter take the lead especially when one kiss led to another and another. Potter’s tongue brushed his lips and Draco opened his mouth without hesitation, wrapping his hand around the nape of Potter’s neck and tilting his head to deepen the kiss. Draco groaned as Potter’s fingers push through his hair, dragging over his scalp, gripping in the tangle of hair and pulling Draco’s head back.

“Better,” Potter said, letting go of Draco’s hair with a grin.

“ _Really_?” Draco huffed, using his fingers to try and detangle and smooth his hair back.

“ Serves you right.” Potter said, looking pleased with himself and only mildly flustered, “We have exams for the next three days and I need to focus.”

Draco frowned at him for the look of the thing but honestly getting a snog was more of a reward than a punishment, he’d tolerate getting his hair messed up for that.

“Come on let’s get something to eat,” Potter said, “then… do you want to study together?”

“…Probably not,” Draco said.

Potter frowned.

“Not if I want to concentrate,” Draco said.

Potter grinned, “Oh. Am I distracting?”

“Have you met yourself? Just looking at your hair is enough to cause mild anxiety,” Draco said.

Potter snickered, “Yeah, well you ought to see yourself right now.”

Draco glared at him and tried to fix his hair again.

“It’s fine! It’s fine!” Potter laughed, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the door.

  
  



	15. Chapter 15

As it was wont to do, school took up the majority of the next three days. The tests were not so much grades as markers of how badly prepared they were for the NEWTS at the end of the year; full of everything from first to seventh-year curriculum, including things they were never taught but were still expected to know.

Not that Draco didn’t see Potter, they ate to together a few times and tried to study together, which was a disaster. When they weren’t distracted by glances and staring at one another, they were flirting, which somehow always ended up as teasing that was ’ _very disruptive’_ , as Pince put it when she was ordering them to separate tables, ’ _unless they wanted to leave altogether_ ’. The Slytherin dungeons were the exact opposite of a good study environment, so Draco forced himself to behave.

There were a lot of stolen kisses, and two very memorable snogs in dark corners and empty rooms. Draco was very pleased with Potter’s growing boldness, but he kept having to remind himself not to get too excited. Potter still hadn’t told more of his friends, much less anyone else, about their- their- could he even call it a proper relationship? It felt like more than just a casual fling; it wasn’t friends with benefits or Draco would imagine there’d be a lot more benefits. Yet it was still a tenuous secretive thing. Not that is would be smart or advisable to be in any sort of public relationship with Harry-fucking-Potter especially being ex-deatheater Draco Malfoy. But Potter could’ve at least talked to him about it not being a good idea.

Draco finished packing his bag and shrunk it down, slipping it into his pocket as he joined Pansy in the common room to walk to the train together.

“I feel like someone used a scourgify on my brain,” Pansy said, “Or should. I’m looking forward to not thinking about anything for two weeks.”

“Nothing?” Draco asked raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” Pansy repeated, “except for maybe the new spring lines.”

The corner of Draco’s mouth twitched, “Ah.”

“Which doesn’t count because I enjoy it,” Pansy said.

Draco grinned, “Of course not.”

Draco walked closer to Pansy as they got neared the doors and the crowds grew thicker, full of shouting and laughter. They made sure to stay at the back. Crowds made him nervous.

“Ah, err- Malfoy!” Potter called, trying to push his way through the crowd without actually pushing anyone. But, for him, most people moved anyway.

Pansy waited until Potter had reached his side and then nudged Draco and fell back a few steps.

“You’re taking the train?” Potter asked.

Draco looked at the line of children he was currently following to the train station and said sarcastically, “No.”

Potter hesitated, “All the other eighth years are flooing or apparating back from Hogsmeade.”

“I had my apparition licence revoked,” Draco said, “And all the manor’s floos have been gated as part of Mother’s house arrest.”

“So you’re taking the train back,” Potter said.

“So I’m taking the train back.”

Potter grimaced.

“Walk me to the station?” Draco asked.

“Yeah,” Potter said as if he hadn’t already been doing so. “Why’d they-”

“Take my apparition licence?”

Potter nodded.

“Because they could,” Draco said, “All the stipulations of my release came from the members of the Wizgamot that argued for my imprisonment.”

Potter reached out, grabbing Draco’s arm and squeezing it. He looked at his own hand like it had moved without his permission and pulled it back to chest, tugging absent-mindedly at his jacket.

“It’s still fine,” Draco said, “It’s not as if I didn’t deserve worse.”

Potter stiffened.

Draco rolled his eyes, “I did things that that other people were sent to azkaban for. I did take the mark.”

“You were just a kid,” Potter said.

“So were you,” Draco said right back.

Potter pulled off his hat so he could push his fingers through his hair.

“If anyone other than  _you_  had spoken for me at my trial, I’d be in azkaban right now,” Draco said.

“You saved me at the manor.”

“You pulled me from the fire,” Draco said.

“I couldn’t just-” Potter frowned and shook his head.

“Neither could I.” Draco said.

Potter sighed.

“It’s fine.”

Potter frowned at him.

“I’m not saying I enjoy the experience,” Draco said, “Having to ride the knight bus all the way to Wiltshire is a punishment in its own right.”

Potter’s eyes widened, “You ride the knight bus?”

“Unfortunately,” Draco said.

Potter looked as though he was trying very hard not to laugh, “Really?”

Draco didn’t dignify that with a response.

“I just- when the bus goes around the corner, and you’re sliding across the floor in one of those purple chairs-” Potter crossed his arms across his chest and furrowed his brow, sticking out his lower lip in a pout, all in all making him look like a constipated neanderthal.

“That’s-!” Draco shoved him in indignation.

Potter threw his head back and laughed.

Draco felt himself starting to pout and bit his bottom lip. “Rude,” he huffed.

Potter slowed down as they reached the train platform.

“The train doesn’t leave for a while yet,” Draco said, grabbing Potter’s wrist and pulling him on board. He had to go two cars down before he found an empty compartment, one of the small ones with only a single bench. He slid the door shut behind them, pressing Potter back against it and kissing him. He felt Potter’s hands pushed under his cloak and robes, sliding over his shirt, a thin layer of cotton separating them.

Draco shifted closer, pressing Potter tighter to the door as he kissed him, wanted to feel every heated line of his body. And Potter pressed back even as he shuddered like he wasn’t entirely in control of his own desire.

There was a tap on the door that made them both jump and Pansy called, “The train is leaving in ten minutes.”

Draco leaned back with a groan.

“Have a happy christmas?” Potter said breathlessly.

Draco rolled his eyes, “Really, Potter?”

“What?”

Draco shook his head and said softly, “Think of me over the break.”

“Um,” Potter said.

Draco cupped Potters cheek, “Especially when you’re masturbating.”

“Malfoy!” Potter smacked his shoulder.

Draco had to bite down on the inside of his lip to keep from laughing. Potter’s face was hot under his fingers, “I mean it. Think of me when you come.”

“ _Merlin_.” Potter said faintly. “You’re-”

Pansy tapped on the door again, “Five minutes.”

The train’s whistle rang out.

Draco kissed him again and pulled the door open.

Pansy was leaning on the windows outside, arms crossed, “Unless you want to try your hand at aparating off a moving train you should probably go.”

“ I- okay,” Potter hesitated, “bye.”

Draco leaned out the door as Potter stepped off the train, “Have a happy christmas, Potter!”

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Pervert,” Pansy said as she pushed past him and into the small compartment.

Draco slammed the door shut, heat flooding his cheeks, “You heard?”

“I heard you being a pervert,” Pansy said.

“You think everyone’s a pervert.” Draco retorted.

“For the love of Merlin- Does this look like a soundproofed wall to you?” Pansy reached behind her and rapped loudly on the thin panel, “A thick stone wall? An artfully constructed silencing charm? A-”

“ _Yes_.  _Fine_.  _Shut up_.” Draco said shortly.

“ No.” Pansy said, “I had to listen to it, I’m not going to shut up just-”

“You didn’t have to listen,” Draco turned to glare at her.

Pansy narrowed her eyes, “ _I did_. Because if I could hear it, anyone else who walked through could as well. I had to scare off a pack of second-years.”

Draco deflated and dropped onto the seat next to Pansy, “I thought I was careful.”

“ You were until you opened your mouth, ” Pansy said. She took the Daily Prophet out from under her arm and unfolded it, “I stole this from one of the brats I hexed.”

Draco took the paper from her with a grimace. The headline read ’ _Deatheater’s Revenge_?’ with several bylines underneath ’ _Hogwarts Beware. Is a new plot unfolding? Is Our Hero Safe_?’.  The centre of the paper was half filled with a picture of Potter and him walking back to Hogwarts, Draco’s arm around Potter’s waist to keep him upright. It was taken from the back and was too far away to make anything out other than their hair, which was unfortunately very distinctive.

“ The article itself is mostly just conjecture and fear-mongering.” Pansy said, “The only actual information is from a few interviews with students that say you’ve been hanging out with Potter a lot lately. Of course, that Dour woman makes it sound like you're keeping a knife to his throat.”

“"I would think she was ill if she didn't assume the absolute worst," Draco said and sighed.

Pansy snatched the paper back and threw it on the ground in disgust.

Draco said, “I was hoping they’d go for a more charitable angle, that I was Potter’s new pity project or something… but I knew it was unlikely.”

“You’re going to have to be so careful-”

“I know,” Draco said.

“One toe out of line-”

“I  _know_.” Draco said impatiently, “I knew as soon as I started school again something like this was going to happen.”

“ It’s going to worse because of  _him_.”

“ Potter?” Draco asked.

“No, the bloody Minister of Magic. Of course, I mean Potter,” Pansy snipped.

Draco rolled his eyes, “He’s not going to let them throw me in azkaban if I haven’t done anything.”

“Even if you break up?” Pansy said, “Even if he decides he doesn’t want the whole world knowing he likes blokes?”

Draco raised an eyebrow, “He saved my life when he hated me, and I was a deatheater. He’s  _Harry Potter_.”

Pansy slumped down, kicking the newspaper irritably, “Yes, alright.”

Draco leaned down, rescuing the front page of the paper, folding it and tucking it into an inside pocket.

“ Hey! I stole that fair and square!” Pansy said.

“And I stole it from you.”

Pansy kicked at his boot, “What do you want with it anyway? If I were you, I’d want to light it on fire, along with all the papers and the press and maybe Skeeter as well.”

“I’m on the front page,” Draco said.

Pansy narrowed her eyes.

Draco lifted his chin, “I’ve hardly been in the paper at all, much less the front page.”

“You’re the worst,” Pansy said flatly.

“I don’t expect you to understand. You’ve never been on the front page.”

Pansy said, “Oh, go put it in your scrapbook.”

“I don’t have a scrapbook,” Draco said stiffly.

It was an album,  _not_  a scrapbook.

  
  


* * *

  
  


They talked for a few minutes more, then Pansy fell asleep on Draco’s shoulder and he took out a book and read the rest of the way to the station.

They waited on the train until it was empty and the platform had only a few people loitering around, making their way out through a crush of muggles in strange clothes. Pansy kept slowing down to look at them with a mixture of curiosity and interest. They walked down a side street until they were away from the crowds and Draco drew out his wand holding it up.

“You can apparate back,” Draco offered without much hope, “You don’t have to ride with me.”

Pansy just grinned.

When the purple monstrosity skidded to a halt in front of them, Pansy shot up the stairs, racing to pick her favourite chair while Draco paid their fare. Draco picked a heavy chair that he hoped couldn’t move much. Across from him, Pansy pulled her feet up onto the cushions of the smaller chair just as the bus lurched forward. Her chair skidded past him towards the back of the bus: she was already starting to giggle.

Draco gripped the arms of his chair so hard his fingertips went white.

Luckily, once they were outside London the hurling around corners and squeezing between muggle automobiles dropped enough that Draco was able to pry his hands loose from where they were trying to become one with the upholstery. Just in time as well because if he had to listen to Pansy laughing like a hyena for even a second longer, he was going to throw her out a window. He didn’t know what she enjoyed sliding around on the chair or watching him suffer. Knowing Pansy, it was both.

The bus dropped them off at the massive wrought iron fence of Manor, the gate swinging open as soon as Draco approached. The manor loomed over them as they approached, shadows catching and growing in places they never had when he was young. The bushes and grass had gone brown, and if weren’t for the biting cold, he could have mistaken it for fall.

Kipper, the head elf, opened the door as they approached and gave a fussy little bow, “Welcome home, Master Draco.”

Mother was waiting, wearing dress robes, hair done up in a neat bun like she was heading to a ministry function rather than greeting her son. Her hands were clasped tightly in front of her but fell open as Draco stepped inside and swept him into a hug, “Welcome back.”

“Thank you, Mother,” Draco said, hugging her back with care.

Tulip had been waiting at Mother’s side, wearing a yellow pastel pillowcase and holding her camera in both hands, shaking with excitement, “Family photograph!”

Kipper glared at her and cleared his throat meaningfully as he closed the door.

Tulip ignored him, “The Master is home! There has to be a photo for the memory!”

Mother stepped back with an apologetic smile, “I’m afraid I said she could.”

“I’ll head up and put my things away,” Pansy said.

Mother stopped her with a wave, “Stay, won’t you? It would be nice to have a photo of all of us.”

Pansy frowned and then quickly conjured a mirror, setting her hair and make-up to rights in a few waves of her wand too quick to tell one charm from another.

Mother pulled Draco to her right and Pansy to her left, arranging them both to her liking before loosely clasping her arms in front of herself and putting on a smile.

Draco felt himself falling into  _the pose_ without thinking, one hand on his mother’s shoulder, the other placed behind his own back. Before his face could set into practised indifference he was distracted by Tulip, “You’ve forgotten the lens cap, Tulip.”

Tulip quickly fumbled the cap off and sent it skittering across the tiles.

“Your finger’s in the way.”

Tulip quickly pulled all her fingers in and held the sides of the camera with even more determination.

Draco couldn’t stop the creeping grin, “You’ll get a better photo if you hold the camera straight.”

Tulip tilted her head to one side, somehow resulting in the camera straightening.

“Oh, stop fussing,” Mother said.

“I’m just helping,” Draco said, voice edged with amusement.

Pansy snorted, “Like you know anything about photography.”

Draco said, “It doesn’t take a genius.”

“It takes a camera, which you don’t have,” Pansy said primly

“You two,” Mother chastised gently, a genuine smile having taken the place of the fake one.

“All done!” Tulip said with a bounce, “Tulip got a very good picture!”

“I’m looking forward to seeing it, Tulip,” Mother said, “Do make four prints will you?”

Pansy said, “Oh, I don’t-”

“Tulip will do that,” Tulip said, “Should I now? Or later?”

“Now would be fine. I won’t be needing you until later,” Mother said.

Tulip bobbed in something like a bow or a curtsy and apparated with a snap.

“Your bags,” Kipper said sourly, his eyes mostly hidden by an impressive set of eyebrows, though his scowl of disapproval was quite apparent.

“I’ll take care of my own bags,” Pansy said, “I’d like to lie down before dinner.”

“Of course. Travel can be so tiresome,” Mother said.

Pansy hesitated, “Thank you for having me again.”

“It’s been a delight. I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Mother said.

Pansy smiled faintly and headed down the hallway, taking the stairs to the eastern wing.

Draco looked around the entry hall; white polished marble tiles rang under his feet where once black stone had stood. The once dour grey stone walls, before only marginally improved by tapestries and portraits, were now an off-white, smoothed and brightened by three layers of plaster. Each layer was imbued with protection and purification spells to bind the lingering dark magic to the stone and keep it from leeching out.

“You’ve finished renovations on the east wing?” Draco asked.

“Recently,” Mother said, taking his arm and guiding him down the hall, “I completed the entrance hall this week.”

“You’re not taxing yourself are you?” Draco asked.

Mother gave him arch look, “Not in the slightest. My schedule is the same as it was this summer.”

Draco let her lead him to all the rooms and hallways that had been plastered and tiled since he left. Most of the paintings were still all stacked against the walls, tapestries rolled up and put out of the way, making the manor feel newly built and yet abandoned. It was still far better than before when shadows crept and grew, and a dark unease pervading every room.  

“How has school been?” Mother asked as she finally opened the doors to her favourite sitting room.

It was one of a handful of rooms that was fully painted and decorated. The only portraits on the walls were of flowers. A steaming tea service was waiting for them.

Draco sat on a large pale blue sofa, “You’ve received my letters, haven’t you?”

“Yes, every week.” Mother sat on the other end of the sofa and charmed the teapot to fill their cups and add sugar, cream to hers, “But I also know you don’t want to worry me.”

“Which has worried you. It seems I’ve failed quite badly,” Draco said lightly.

Mother smiled briefly and then shifted to her serious expression, “I am glad your studies are going well, but there has to be more than that.”

“I’ve brewed as well,” Draco said.

“Draco has anyone-”

“No.” Draco said quickly to cut her off, “It’s not…” he sighed and picked up his tea to give himself something to do, “The fact of the matter is that I am mostly just ignored. The students prefer to act like I don’t exist and the teachers are strict but not unfair. I have Pansy and my brewing and studies to keep me occupied.”

“Pansy owled me-”

Draco groaned.

“-She said you havn't been eating well lately,” Mother said.

“I’m fine.”

Mother brushed her hand over his cheek, “You’re pale.”

“I’m always pale,” Draco said, knowing he couldn’t change her mind.

“I’ll have the elves put a nutrient potion with your meals, and you’ll have your digestive tea with breakfast,” Mother said.

Draco sighed.

“Does it have to do with headline today?” Mother asked.

Draco’s cup rattled in his hands and he quickly set it down.

Mother picked up her own cup and took a delicate sip before just as carefully replacing it back in the saucer, “You have befriended Harry Potter?”

Draco cleared his throat and said as coolly as he could manage, “It’s been going remarkably well, all things considered.”

Mother’s brow furrowed faintly.

Draco went on before she could fill in the silence, “Of course it’s been stressful. Potter and I don’t exactly have the best history.”

Mother stared down at cup, her expression unreadable, “Things will be difficult. Are sure this is what you want?”

Draco blinked and drew in an uneven breath, “Yes. It is.” he said.

Mother nodded minutely and floated a plate of scones in front of him, “Have a scone. There’s clotted cream and fresh preserves.”

Draco had two.

  
  



	16. Chapter 16

Draco tried to stare down the vial of blue liquid next to his mug of tea. He glared at the mug as well, the overwhelming taste of ginger didn’t quite drown out the bitter potion taste beneath.

Mother gave him a look.

Draco picked up the vial between two fingers and took the nutrient potion like a shot, following it with a swallow of the digestive tea. He clenched his jaw, a shudder going down his spine as stomach clenched once then relaxed.

Pansy snickered at him.

Draco glared at her over his nice, normal tea as he tried to wash the taste of the potions out of his mouth.

“Do you two have any plans for the break?” Mother asked.

“Organizing my notes into a single comprehensive study guide,” Draco said.

Pansy rolled her eyes, “Draco has boring plans to be boring.”

Draco picked up his butter knife and cut the top off his egg in one clean, and terribly satisfying, whack, dipping his toast into the yolk, “As if you aren’t going to steal a copy for all the classes we share.”

“It would be a waste not to,“ Pansy said.

“Do you have any plans, Pansy?” Mother asked.

Pansy played with her spoon, “Well, some friends asked me to go out with them after boxing day.”

“Jenna and Melanie?” Draco asked.

Pansy nodded, “They said we’d get mani-pedi’s-”

Mother’s brow furrowed, “Manipedi?”

“It’s a muggle thing where they do your nails. It’s supposed to be very nice. Jenna said it was anyway.” Pansy went on, “And then we’ll go shopping- Did you know muggles have entire shops just for beauty supplies? And a salon and then we’re to have a sleepover and watch a movie.”

“A movie- That’s like a muggle moving photograph right?” Draco said.

Pansy shrugged one shoulder looking unsure, “Melanie said it was like a photo but with a play inside it.”

“An entire play?” Mother said, looking intrigued despite herself, “You could watch Othello or La Traviata whenever you liked?”

“I think so,” Pansy said.

Mother wiped her fingers primly on a napkin, “It sounds intriguing. When you come back and can tell us all about it.”

Kipper shuffled into the room and placed a letter on the table, “For Miss Pansy.”

Pansy stared at the sealed parchment as if it might bite her and then gingerly picked it up. She held it for a long time before standing, “Excuse me, I just-” she trailed off and hurried out the door.

Draco only hesitated for a second, “I should- I need to make sure she’s-”

“Go on,” Mother said mildly.

Draco pushed his chair back and hurried out into the hall, “Kipper,” the old elf appeared silently at his elbow, “Do you know where she went?”

“The yellow sitting room,” Kipper said, pointing to the end of the hall.

Draco went to the door, tapping on it lightly. He eased it open when he wasn’t immediately told to fuck off. Pansy was sitting on one of three couches clustered in the centre of a small sitting room, its walls bare and white with fresh plaster.

Pansy silently pointed to the cushion beside her.

Draco sat next to her as directed, “From your mother?”

Pansy nodded, holding the letter by the edges, her thumb dragging back and forth over the corner.

“You don’t have to open it,” Draco suggested, “You could burn it.”

Pansy shook her head and broke the wax seal with a snap. She slowly unfolded the thick parchment, pressing it flat with her palm, “Dearest Pansy,” she read, her voice a quiet monotone, “Your father has convinced me that your decision to finish your schooling is for the best. Although Beauxbatons still would have been a better choice considering you social reputation in England, I won’t hold it against you.”

Pansy’s voice wavered slightly and, Draco shifted closer to her on the couch so they pressed shoulder to elbow.

Pansy’s mouth thinned into a line, she went on, “Lord Coucy is eager to hear confirmation of the engagement and has been very patient with your behaviour towards him. I have assured him you will agree to the marriage and are simply indulging the last of childish pursuits.” She breathed in, “I can’t express it to you any plainer, Pansy, you are unlikely ever to make another match as good as this. You have always been flighty and immature, but these ideas you have are just an excuse-” she blinked and tears slipped off her eyelashes, rolling down her cheeks, her voice wavering, “-we all have to do things we don’t like, so I expect- I ex-pect…”

She sobbed and Draco pulled the letter from her hands, crumpling it and throwing it across the room, “Don’t listen to her, Pans. Don’t-”

Pansy tried to wipe her eyes with shaking hands.

Draco pulled her into a hug, smoothing her hair and rubbing her back like Mother always did for him.

Pansy buried her face in his robes and cried in great heaving sobs.

“She a cunt.” he said quietly, “She doesn’t deserve you, none of them do.”

Pansy’s breathing slowly evened out. She leaned all her weight against him; her voice was hoarse and muffled by his shirt, “Why can’t she just love me?”

Draco hugged her tighter, “I don’t know.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


Draco stayed with Pansy for the rest of the day, and they had chocolate for lunch in her rooms with the wireless turned up loud enough to make the fixtures vibrate. Pansy dozed off at six. Once he was sure she was asleep, he went down to have dinner. His mother had already eaten most of her meal when he slumped down in his chair, a plate of food covered in warming and preservation charms waiting for him.

“Will Pansy be joining us for dinner?” Mother asked.

Draco shook his head and removed the layers of charms. He wasn’t really hungry, but he ate anyway because Mother was watching him with her concerned expression.

Mother touched her chin with a thoughtful frown, “She knows she can stay here for as long as she wants?”

“Yes,” Draco said, chewing a tender piece of roast.

“Good,” Mother said, “I’ll ask Kip to make a chocolate cake tomorrow, or maybe a tart- Do you know which Pansy prefers?”

“The sort of chocolate cake that is so dense it’s nearly fudge,” Draco said.

“Draco… the trouble she’s having with her family-”

“It’s not for me to say,” Draco interrupted firmly.

Mother picked up her wine glass and swirled it idly, watching the way the dark red liquid caught the light, “Then we could talk about you instead?”

Draco’s shoulders tensed.

Mother took his silence as permission and went on, “I’ve talked with our solicitor, Mr Asquith recently-”

Draco’s head snapped up, “Is something wrong?”

“No. I told you your father wants to sign everything over to you and I?”

Draco nodded stiffly, “In case he dies in prison.”

“I’ve been in contact with Mr Asquith to arranged all the paperwork-”

“I could have done that,” Draco said.

Mother sighed, “You do enough already, dear. Your schooling should be your only priority now, not trying to manage the estate. And, shockingly enough, I do know how to do that myself.”

Draco waited.

“He told me about your… efforts over the summer.” Mother said.

“Yes?” Draco said cautiously.

“I have no complaints about the work itself,” Mother added quickly, “Charity is very commendable-”

“ _But_.”

Mother sighed, “I don’t understand why you have insisted on anonymity.”

Draco shook his head, already seeing where this was headed, “No.”

“ If people were to know-”

“ _No_.” Draco repeated.

“ -It would improve your image greatly, Draco!”

“And I said, No.” Draco ground out, dropping his fork with a clatter.

Mother put her glass down, “You can’t enjoy the way you are treated, the way people speak of you?”

“Of course not!”

“I-  _I_  can’t stand it, Draco” Mother said, brushing her fingertips lightly over her heart.

Draco took a deep breath, “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

“I don’t understand,” Mother said again, her tone softening so it begged him to explain.

“Because it’s-” Draco stopped and dragged his fingers through his hair, “They love me -now. Right now, everyone who I’ve helped loves me and think I- I’m wonderful but if they knew it was me-”

“Draco-”

“If they knew I was the one who did it-” Draco raised her voice over hers, “They would hate me anyway or would think it was a trick or my potions were poisoned- They would think I did it just for the publicity!”

“Draco,” Mother said softly.

Draco looked at his half-eaten dinner and pushed the plate back. He cleared his throat, “I don’t care that they don’t know.  _I know_. I know they like me, that they’re thankful for what I’ve done.”

Mother’s brow was still furrowed, with worry or confusion he didn’t know.

“ It stays anonymous,” Draco said as firmly as he could manage, even as he felt like a child playing pretend at being his Father.

Mother frowned, “I won’t force you to do anything you truly don’t want to, you know that.”

Draco felt the little sick squeezing in his stomach he always did when she said that and the wanting- Wanting her to have told him no at least once, when he’d been called to take the mark, if she had just- but he knew himself well enough that he wouldn’t have listened then, back when it wasn’t really real to him.

But this wasn’t like that. Draco didn’t want it ruined. He didn’t want to share. It was  _his_. He wanted to keep it all to himself.

“ That’s settled then,” Draco said faintly as he stood, “I’m going to bed.”

“You’ve hardly eaten,” Mother protested.

Draco looked at the plate, then his mother and her worried frown and lied, “I ate with Pansy.”

Mother hurried to her feet and hugged him tightly before he could leave, “I’m sorry I upset you, Draco.”

Draco didn’t have the energy to do more than brush his hands over her back before pulling away, “I’m fine,” he said forcing a smile and going to his room.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Draco woke at one in the afternoon with a headache.  Kipper was waiting by the side of his bed, looking dour as usual.

“Owl for you, Master Draco,” Kipper said holding out a letter.

Draco didn’t recognise the wax seal, the letter was very neatly folded, which was not typical of any of the Hogwarts ilk, but there wasn’t a person of any actual note who was still willing to speak with him on any terms.

He patted around under his pillow for his wand and promptly gave up, “Kipper is there any magic on this?”

“No,” Kipper said flatly, not even bothering to look.

Draco slid his thumbnail under the seal and popped it open, unfolding the short letter and looking to the end to see who sent it. Longbottom.

Draco raised his eyebrows and read the note. Longbottom wanted to visit tomorrow afternoon.

“Kipper?”

“Yes, Master Draco,” Kipper said.

Draco tossed the letter on his sheets and looked for his wand again, “We’re going to have visitors tomorrow, Miss Luna and Neville Longbottom.”

“What shall I prepare?”

Draco found his wand caught in the fabric of his pillowcase, “A full tea service with all of Luna’s favourites.”

“Enough for all guests?”

Draco charmed the drapes open, winced, and promptly closed them again, “Yes, and Mother, in case she decides to join us. Also, I’ll be needing an owl in about an hour to send a reply.”

Kipper bowed stiffly, “Shall I send breakfast up?”

“Yes and….” Draco added, “I’ll also need the greenhouse prepared for visitors.”

“The greenhouse,” Kipper’s glower deepened, “That one- That one is not a proper house elf, shouldn’t even be allowed to-”

“Fine! Fine.” Draco interrupted, “ _I’ll_  prepare the greenhouse.”

Kipper looked to the door speculatively, “Kipper shall punish himself for such impertinence.”

“No punishments,” Draco said.

“An elf stepping out of line-”

“No punishments, Kipper,” Draco said firmly.

Kipper closed his eyes thoughtfully then smiled very briefly in satisfaction, “What Kipper decides to do with his free time, is his own choice. Master Draco has made this very clear.”

Draco stared at Kipper, “ _You_ -”

Kipper ignored him, “Can I be getting Master Draco anything else?”

Draco rubbed his face with a groan, “Just breakfast.”

“Very good.”

Kipped apparated with a crack, and Draco lay back down, pulling the comforter up over his head.

  
  



	17. Chapter 17

Draco felt the wards shift as Longbottom and Luna arrived and reached the doors just as Kipper was opening them.

Luna stepped inside and hugged Draco without warning, “Hullo, Draco.”

“Hello,” Draco said stiffly, feeling slightly off-kilter, a speciality of Luna’s.

Longbottom wavered at the doorstep, much to Kipper distaste.

“Shall we go to the greenhouse?” Draco offered.

Luna shook her head, “Oh, I don’t want to. I only came because Neville was feeling nervous about coming alone.”

Longbottom’s already cold flushed cheeks went a little brighter.

“My mother and Pansy are here,” Draco said, and as the idea occurred to him, he asked, “Do you like Pansy at all? As a person, sort of generally.”

Luna turned slowly on the balls of her feet looking both as if she might be thinking or simply looking around the entry hall. She turned back to them abruptly, “I didn’t before, but now I’m thinking I might.”

Draco took a quick bracing breath, “Well she could use a little company. Maybe you could ask her to do your nails again?”

“Okay,” Luna said. She looked at the end of the hall which ended in a set of matching curved staircases. There were doors to the right and left for those wings of the building and doors in the centre, and despite the chandeliers and sconces lining the walls, the area was always a bit foreboding. Once Mother plastered the walls and re-tiled the floors it would undoubtedly brighten up, but until then it was dark and gloomy, and Luna had never walked through the house unaccompanied.

“Kipper, would you guide Mr Longbottom to the greenhouse via the exterior of the house? I have to see Luna to Pansy’s rooms,” Draco said.

Luna smiled gratefully and Longbottom looked at Kipper with trepidation.

Draco told Longbottom, “You can look at everything, just don’t touch.”

“I know my way around a greenhouse,” Longbottom said.

“I’m sure you do,” Draco said, trying his very best not to snap at Longbottom, “But if you touch or change anything without Moss knowing about it, he will light my bed on fire.”

Longbottom blinked at him.

Draco nodded, “Thank you. I won’t be long.”

Kipper stepped outside, the door swinging shut behind him.

“Moss, is that the funny little elf that lives in the shed behind the greenhouse?” Luna asked as they walked to Pansy’s rooms.

“The very one,” Draco said.

“I didn’t know they had a name or a gender.”

Draco sighed, “They’re more descriptors for the sake of expedience.”

“Oh,” Luna said, looking around her thoughtfully, “A nickname is okay, I suppose, but I don’t think you ought to be giving people genders without their permission.”

Draco’s brow furrowed, “Then I should-?”

“Use they or them until Moss lets you know themselves,” Luna said.

“I see.” Draco wondered why whenever he spoke with Luna their conversations always ended up so serious and complicated. He couldn’t remember ever talking to her about flowers or the last book they read, or anything bland. It was always the meaning of life and the war and, of course, invisible creatures only she could see.

Draco knocked on Pansy’s door, “Are you decent?”

“What?!” Pansy yelled back, “Since when do you care about that?”

Draco rolled his eyes, “Yes, well-”

“I’m here!” Luna said cheerfully.

“-so pull on a robe or something.”

There was a muffled thump and some rather colourful swearing.

“I don’t mind,” Luna offered.

Pansy jerked the door open, “I barely fucking know you, Lovegood.”

“It would foster social intimacy between us,” Luna said.

Pansy finished knotting the tie of the silk robe it looked like she’d probably grabbed off the floor. She seemed unnaturally pale without makeup on, and dark shadows ringed her eyes. “What do you want?” she asked sourly.

Before Draco could answer, Luna said, “Have you ever done a home-made face mask?”

“A face mask?” Pansy repeated, slightly off balance.

Luna nodded, “There are ones with oatmeal and ones with egg whites, but I like the ones with fruit best because you can eat them.”

“You can- What?” Pansy said.

Luna ducked under Pansy’s arm and went into her room, “This will be a lot of fun, you’ll see.”

Pansy stared after Luna and then turned and glared at Draco.

Draco raised both hands, “You don’t have to,” he said to both of them, “You can always call Tulip and she can take Luna to Mother or the greenhouse. I’ve planned for a tea in an hour or so.”

“With shortbread and raspberry jam?” Luna asked.

“Of course.”

Luna clapped her hands in excitement.

Pansy sighed. “Face masks, it is,” she said, shutting the door in Draco’s face.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Draco entered the greenhouse via the western conservatory, pushing open the glass door and being engulfed in warm, humid air. There were twenty-four tables, each with its own climate and atmosphere, the wards around them catching the light like the surface of a bubble. The plants for his potions grew in raised beds along the far wall.

Longbottom was still near the entrance, a notebook and pencil in hand as he scribbled notes.

Draco stopped on the other side of the table, “That’s just a colour variation of Moly. They bloom a pale pink rather than white.”

Longbottom paused, glancing up from his note for just a second too long before asking, “Does it affect the magical properties?”

Draco shook his head, “No, just the colour.”

Longbottom made another note and moved to the next table.

Draco listened to pencil scratch across parchment for far too long,“You wanted to see the fern?”

“Uhuh,” Longbottom said absently.

Draco crossed his arms.

Longbottom paused, sparing Draco a glance, “I wanted to see everything really.”

“You can always come back,” Draco said, “Unless you’re planning to spit in my face before leaving I have no reason to bar you from visiting whenever you like.”

“Oh. Thanks,” Longbottom said. He stopped taking notes and straightened up, “It’s really fascinating. I’ve never seen a greenhouse set up like this. Though, I haven’t seen many so-” he shrugged.

“It was largely great uncle’s doing. He was obsessed.” Draco paused and frowned, “Not obsessed, it was his passion, and he was very good at it. It was my family that called him that. They considered him a failure.”

“A failure? What did he fail at?” Longbottom asked.

Draco walked down the tables, clasping his hands behind his back, “Being a Malfoy mostly. Never married, no heirs, no interest in politics or power, just plants.”

Longbottom turned to take in the whole greenhouse, “It seems brilliant to me.”

Draco stopped in front of the large table housing all the fletus ferns. It was a large box planter covering the whole table, and the biome inside the wards kept the ferns warm and damp like the rainforest they had been collected from. There were four plants, some moss and a few species of faintly glowing fungus that weren’t affected by the ferns sap.

Longbottom lingered a few tables back, tilting his head to one side as he studied the atlantian lotus growing on a miniature table pond. He pencil scratched across parchment as he said, “So you and Harry are… together?”

“As much as you and Abbot are,” Draco said.

Longbottom flushed slightly, “Hannah and I aren’t- I mean we’ve never really talked about- uh-”

“Have you kissed?” Malfoy asked, watching with interest as Longbottom’s entire face slowly turned red.

“I, uh, n-no,” Longbottom shook his head.

“I see,” Draco said, pleased to have changed to subject.

Longbottom cleared his throat nervously and joined Draco at the ferns. “I’ve been looking into what ferns require to propagate and the uh, different seasonal shifts found in the rainforests of the congo.” He flipped through a few pages of his notes, “It’s been tricky because the area your uncle described finding them has been cut down since then…”

“So these might be the only living specimens of this fern,” Draco said.

Longbottom nodded, “I was wondering if you had ever divided the plants? That’s a much easier way to grow more ferns, and they’re typically very hardy and handle such treatment well.”

“I’ve read about it.” Draco said leaning on the edge of the table, “I was reluctant to do it myself.”

“It’s pretty easy,” Longbottom said.

Draco considered the blue-tinged fronds. Each fern had gotten quite large, even with charms to slow and stabilise their growth. “They’ll need to be planted on a new table,” he said and looked around the greenhouse, “Moss!? Elf?!” He frowned. There was no response, “I’ll overturn every table in here!” He waited, and nothing happened. Draco sighed, “I’ll try to do this myself then.”

There was rustle from the corner and what had looked like part of the rubbish heap lifted its head. There was something like clothes and a big floppy hat, but it was just as likely entirely made of moss and rushes. There was skin peeking out of the ends of things, hands, feet, the tips of ears, though it was impossible to say whether the elf’s skin was brown or entirely covered in dirt. Draco had never seen their face and never wished to.

The elf scuffled over to them and waved at Draco irritably until he took a step away from the table was thus theoretically unable to ruin anything.

Longbottom stared, “Is- Is that a house elf?”

“Maybe.”

Longbottom turned his stare of utter confusion on Draco, “What?”

Draco sighed, “He-They are not bound to the house or my family as far as I can tell. Moss has been around for generations. They maintain all of the grounds and greenhouse, and everything is fine as long as you don’t touch anything without telling them.”

“They’re a free elf then?” Longbottom asked.

“I suppose so,” Draco said stiffly.

“That’s a good thing,” Longbottom said.

Draco rolled his eyes.

Longbottom frowned, “I mean I know some elves like being owned but if they don’t-”

“Yes. Yes, Longbottom. I am aware,” Draco said.

Moss tapped their foot impatiently.

“All I meant was that house elves are quite possibly the most frustrating creatures on earth to negotiate with. They are all contradictory in their desires, stubborn to a fault and only make sense to each other, sometimes.” Draco said, “Now. Moss or elf if you’d rather, we would like to set up a second identical table to this one,” he gestured to the fern enclosure, “because we are going to split the root balls of each fern and double our plants.”

Moss shook their head firmly.

“Don’t worry,” Draco said, “Longbottom here is a prodigy when it comes to handling plants. A master really.” Longbottom started to protest, and Draco flicked a silencing spell at his face. “Everything will be fine.”

Everything was fine. Especially since Draco had nothing to do with it. Between Moss and Longbottom, the planting bed was prepared and the two of them huddled around the ferns to carefully separate them like they might spontaneously combust if they breathed wrong.

Longbottom pressed soil around the newly planted fern, a mask over his face and gloves up to his armpits to protect him from the sedative effects of the fern’s sap, “It’s a bit strange- you and Harry together.”

Draco sighed, not bothering to look up from his potion plant beds.

“He likes you, and Ron and Hermione seem alright with it,” Longbottom went on.

Draco summoned a pair of gloves and cut some of the bigger wolfsbane plants, hanging them up to dry.

“But I mean…” Longbottom hesitated, “They weren’t around. None of them really know what you did during seventh year.” He started working on another fern, “You…tortured people.”

Draco swallowed hard, a taste of bile rising to the back of his throat.

“But you weren’t like the Carrows or even Crabbe and Goyle, you always looked scared. I know what that looks like. I saw in the mirror for ages,” Longbottom said, “I just never understood why you did it.”

Draco debated not answering. He didn’t want to, and other than Pansy and Luna he hadn’t spoken of the war to anyone. But he couldn’t not, he’d watched Longbottom be crucioed, more than once. “I didn’t exactly want to,” he said, hands shaking as he cut asphodel.

“But you did,” Longbottom said.

Draco’s hand tightened, tender green leaves crushed between his fingers, “The Carrows were sadists, but the- the people- those  _things_  living in my  _house_ , they were  _murders…_  and I saw it. I was forced to watch more than-”

“Malfoy you don’t-”

“ _Shut up._ ” Draco said coldly, “For two years there was a knife to my families neck. And I didn’t have the DA- I didn’t have friends I could trust. I only had me. And I did what I had to to protect my parents and myself.”

Longbottom nodded minutely.

Draco went over to the rubbish heap and dropped the ruined plants on top, taking a moment to collect himself.

“I get it now,” Longbottom said, “Sorry to bring it up.”

Draco took a few deep breaths, “I suppose we’re fostering social intimacy.”

“What?”

“Something Luna said,” Draco grabbed a large pot from the corner and carried it over to Longbottom, “Put the last one in here.”

“Uh, sure,” Longbottom said, quickly filling it with soil, “What are you going to do with this one?”

“Give it to you, moron,” Draco said, “Or you could give it you Sprout. I don’t care.”

Longbottom froze and looked from the fern to Draco, “Oh…thank you.”

Draco shrugged one shoulder and pulled off his gloves, “You were helpful. I’m going to go have tea with Pansy and Luna. It’s in the conservatory attached to the greenhouse. I thought that might be more palatable to you if you wanted to join us.”

“Maybe, in a bit,” Longbottom said, “I want to look around more.”

Moss nodded approvingly at Longbottom, still hovering near his knees.

Draco headed for the doors, “As you wish. Try not to trip over the elf. They seem to have taken a liking to you.”

  
  



	18. Chapter 18

Draco stepped into the conservatory and pulled the door shut with a click. He leaned against it, letting his forehead rest on the smooth glass for a second before winding through the maze of potted trees and shrubs and hanging ferns and flowers, to the small sitting area in the centre with one couch, three chairs and a low oval table in the middle.

Luna waved when she saw him, “We started without you!” She had decided to sit in a white wingbacked chair made from someone about twice her size.

“Longbottom is still looking at plants….” Draco trailed off,” What happened to you?”

Luna looked down at herself and then back up, “You mean my nails? Pansy did them.”

“ _All_  of you,” Draco said.

Luna did have her nails done, in swirling purples and blues as deep and dark as a nebula. In addition, her hair, always a riot of tangled curls was a sleek as satin, with perfect spirals, woven with beads that shone and glimmered when she moved. She had just the faintest touch of blue eyeshadow and purple lipstick that seemed to echo the colour of her nails but were much lighter.

“Still Pansy,” Luna said, “It’s wonderful isn’t it?”

Draco nodded, sitting on the couch next to Pansy.

Pansy’s complexion was brighter, but the only other change he could see was that she had swapped the rumpled silk dressing gown for a fluffy pink one, with matching slippers.

“It was fun,” Luna said. “I’ve never had a makeover before.”

Pansy brushed shortbread crumbs off her chest, “And now you have.”

Tulip appeared carrying another tray of assorted biscuits to go with all the shortbread and jam already on the table.

“ _Merlin_. Are we meant to eat all this?” Pansy said.

Tulip did her best to look brave as she put the plate down, “Mistress said.”

Draco took a chocolate dipped, chocolate biscuit, “Tulip, would you get your camera?”

Tulip perked up, disappeared and reappeared so quickly the sound of her two apparitions overlapped. “What should Tulip take a photo of?” she asked.

Draco gestured to Luna.

“ Really?” Luna said, putting her tea down.

“To commemorate it,” Draco said.

“Wait,” Pansy said, pulling her wand out of a fluffy pink pocket and waved a few charms at Luna that fixed every smudge and put every stray hair back into place, “Okay. Now you can take it.”

Tulip hurried over and held up her camera. Draco took the opportunity to move Tulip’s finger off the lens before she took a few photos.

Luna refilled her cup and poured a cup for Draco as well as Tulip left, “I’m glad I came today. I got to make a new friend.”

Pansy sighed and rolled her eyes, conceding, “You’re not half bad I suppose.”

Luna smiled like she was both pleased and amused by Pansy’s response.

Pansy rolled her eyes again.

“How did your exams go?” Draco asked Luna.

“Okay,” Luna shrugged carelessly.

“Are you doing anything over the break?”

Pansy summoned Draco’s untouched tea for herself, cradling it in both hands as she relaxed deeper into the cushions.

“Dad and I were invited to the Burrow for Christmas and a New Years party. We live quite close, so I tend to visit a lot.” Luna said, and added as if she had pulled something from Draco’s expression, “I’m sure you’ll be invited next year.”

Draco shook his head, “I highly doubt that. It would be beyond awkward.”

“Draco’s prone to dying from embarrassment,” Pansy said.

Luna smiled, “You seem very alive to me.”

“It’s a cumulative effect,” Draco said, grabbing a lemon shortbread.

Pansy snorted. “You’ve been to the Weasley’s already? Break’s just started.”

Luna nodded, “Twice.”

“What’s it like?” Pansy asked.

Luna paused in thought, “Warm… and friendly.”

“Yes, but what does it look like?” Draco asked, “Is it an actual burrow?”

“It looks like a house mostly,” Luna said. She used a teaspoon to balance so much jam on her shortbread it ended up dripping over her fingers and onto her jumper.

Draco shook his head and charmed the teapot to fill an empty cup followed by three lumps of sugar.

“I saw Harry as well,” Luna said.

“Did you?” Draco said nonchalantly as he could manage.

“Subtle,” Pansy muttered.

Luna went on, “Yes. He’s been flying a lot. He flew a lot over the summer too.” She took a bite of shortbread and absently sucked jam off her thumb, “Sometimes he flies really high and fast and comes back half frozen, and sometimes he just goes in circles-” she twirled a finger in the air and dripped jam onto her woollen skirt, “-and sometimes he just sits there with his eyes closed.” she closed her eyes, her face going still and sombre, and popped the rest of the shortbread in her mouth.

Draco bit his bottom lip.

Pansy looked at him expectantly and then shook her head. She asked Luna, “Why do you think he does it?”

“You can’t talk to him when he’s flying like that, or after.” Luna said, “It’s against the rules, except there aren’t any rules, but there are. Harry says it’s fine, but his forehead pinches right here-,” she furrowed her brow and poked herself right between the eyes.

Pansy laughed and held out her cup for more tea.

Draco refilled it for her, passing it back along with a chocolate chip biscuit.

Luna shifted over in her chair so she could pull her feet up and tuck them under herself, “Harry doesn’t talk about the war.”

“Talking doesn’t help everyone,” Draco said.

Luna made an expression that on anyone else would have been them narrowing their eyes, but on her looked like she was squinting into the sun. “Maybe for some people but I think it would help Harry a lot. I think he’s afraid because it will hurt at first but you feel much better afterwards.”

“You sound like a mind healer,” Pansy said.

“Well, I have seen a mind healer since june,” Luna said. “and I’ve read a lot.”

“Are you going to become a mind healer after school? You’d be good at it,” Pansy said.

Draco looked at Pansy in astonishment, “A compliment?”

Pansy ignored him.

“That’s very nice of you to say but, I’m not sure I’d enjoy it.” Luna said turning her teacup this way and that in her hands, “I think at the very least we all deserve to have a future we want and enjoy.”

Pansy sighed, “That would be nice.” she held out her hand towards the tray of sweets and made a grabby motion.

“Really?”

Pansy looked him dead in the eye and did it again.

Draco rolled his eyes, trying not to grin in amusement as he picked up the whole plate of assorted biscuits and set it between them on the couch.

Pansy pushed the sweets around on the tray looking for something to grab her fancy, “So, you and Ginevra then?”

“She doesn’t like being called Ginevra,” Luna said, “The only one who calls her that is her mom when she’s mad. You can call her Weaslette though, she thinks it’s funny.”

“When’d you two get together?” Pansy asked.

“This summer, a few weeks before school started…” Luna smiled to herself, her cheeks flushing faintly, “I’ve never told anyone before.”

Pansy smiled, “That’s sweet.”

Draco nodded and tapped his wand on the top of the teapot so it refilled and floated it around the room to refill everyone’s cups.

“I worry sometimes because it’s the first time I’ve ever dated someone,” Luna said.

“You and Draco should have a lot to talk about then,” Pansy said.

Draco felt himself start to flush and threw his biscuit at her, “Pansy!”

Pansy plucked the biscuit off her of her dressing gown, brushed the crumbs off her front and took a bite, completely ignoring Draco’s outrage.

Luna asked him, “You’ve never dated anyone? I thought you and Pansy were together for what seemed like ages. Everyone did.”

“Well, that was the idea,” Pansy said.

“It was all a show,” Draco said.

Pansy said, “I mean, I thought I liked him until I was fourteen or so.”

“I think Pansy figured out I was gay well before I did,” Draco said.

Pansy laughed, “It had something to do with the way your face froze in terror when I tried to kiss you.”

Draco scowled at her, “Well you ought to warn someone before doing that sort of thing.”

Pansy stared at him for just a second too long and then burst out laughing, clutching at the couch cushions as she bent double. “And then Potter just-!” she gasped.

“It’s not that funny,” Draco muttered.

“I don’t get it,” Luna said, “Is this an inside joke?”

“Potter also happened to kiss me without warning and absolutely no forethought on his part.” Draco frowned as he felt his cheeks start to heat up, “And it’s  _not_  that funny.”

Pansy wiped her eyes, still laughing.

“That sounds like a very Harry sort of thing to do,” Luna said. “Can I ask you something?”

“Certainly,” Draco said, ignoring Pansy with as much dignity as he could muster.

“Why did you have to pretend to be dating?”

Draco stared at her.

“Oh you really are so sweet,” Pansy said.

“What?” Luna asked.

“It wouldn’t have been acceptable for me to-” Draco broke off, “If I weren’t an only child maybe but- There are…”

Pansy looked down at her hands, curling them together in her lap.

Luna frowned, “But they love you.”

“My father would never have- he was- is very big on tradition and- and the family has to be…” Draco floundered, “My mother- she might now, I- I hope she might.”

“I think she will,” Pansy said, “She never could say no to you. Always spoiling you rotten.”

Draco bit his lip absently, “She always gives Father the last word.”

“But everything is different now,” Pansy said.

“I wouldn’t have even considered it before if wasn’t for…”

“Potter,” Pansy finished.

Draco didn’t answer but his face likely gave him away anyway.

Pansy nudged his knee with a fluffy pink slipper, “Better to find out now if they really value you for who you are, rather than who they want you to be.”

Draco pushed his fingers through his hair and leaned back into the couch, thinking, rather cynically, it would be better to wait until his father signed the house and holdings over to him and his mother so Father couldn’t threaten to take it away.

“Well,” Luna said, “You’re not alone.”

They all went quiet as the door to the greenhouse opened and Longbottom’s scuffled his way through the foliage until he stumbled into their circle, leaves caught in his hair, his hands and trousers stained with dirt, “It’s getting late, and I promised Gran I’d be back for dinner.” He looked at them and the mostly empty plates of biscuits. “Did- Did I interrupt something?”

Luna held out a shortbread, “Want one? They’re my favourite.”

“But…dinner,” Longbottom said.

Luna stood, taking Longbottom’s hands and filled them with shortbread, “Sometimes you have to have dessert for dinner and dinner for dessert.”

“I’d rather have dessert for dinner and dessert for dessert,” Pansy said.

“Luna,” Longbottom said somewhat hopelessly.

Draco summoned the chair behind Longbottom forward, dumping him back into it.

Luna smiled and filled an empty teacup, “How do you like your tea?”

  
  



	19. Chapter 19

After Luna and Longbottom left, the house fell back to quiet. Mother returned to her work, plastering the walls over one room at a time. Pansy read magazines and listened to the wireless. Draco got to work on his notes, organising and rewriting them where necessary, which is where Pansy found him a few days later.

“ _Merlin_ , you are such a nerd.”

Draco looked up from his desk, “What?”

“You heard me,” Pansy said walking over and looking over his shoulder, “Anyway, let’s go out.”

“Go where?” Draco asked, turning in his chair.

Pansy shrugged nonchalantly, “A mall maybe?”

“A medieval war hammer? What are you even talking about?”

Pansy huffed at him, “No,  _nerd_ , its a muggle building filled with shops. There’s one in Salisbury.”

Draco frowned at her, “I don’t see the point? And how do the shops fit? Muggles can’t manipulate space.”

“It’s a very big building, and the shops are small, I think.” Pansy said, crossing her arms over her chest, “And the point is doing a lot of shopping without having to walk six blocks in the rain and then have to apparate to an entirely different town to get everything you want.”

Draco massaged his temples, “It’s nearly christmas, the amount of people-”

“It’ll be fine,” Pansy cut him off, “They’ll all be muggle anyway so they won’t care about us and it’s not like we have to stay. We could just look and then leave.”

Draco narrowed his eyes.

“If I stay in this house for a second longer, I’m going to lose my mind,” Pansy said.

Draco looked at his parchment and sighed, “Fine. Help me pick out something muggle to wear?”

Pansy went through his closet and transfigured one of his old cloaks into a muggle coat.

Draco looked at the coat, which was boring to say the least, asking Pansy, “That’s it?”

Pansy flicked her wand at his collar, changing it from a high collar to a more casual style and unbuttoned the top two buttons, “That’s it.”

“Kipper!” Draco called and waited.

A few seconds later Kipper appeared in front of him with a snap, “Yes, young Master?”

“I need some muggle notes from the safe,” Draco said.

“How many? Of which type?” Kipper asked.

Draco looked at Pansy who shrugged.

“…Ten of the largest bills?” Draco tried.

“Will that be enough?” Pansy asked.

“Twenty then.”

Kipper bowed and disappeared.

“You know how muggle money works?” Pansy asked.

Draco nodded, “Muggles have a lot of different note papers, but they’re all connected. It makes more sense than our money in some ways.”

“Seems fussy to me,” Pansy said.

“If muggles can manage it, so can I,” Draco said.

Kipper appeared with a stack of paper money in his hands which Draco put in the inside pocket of his jacket.

“Kipper, tell my mother that we’re going out and will be back by supper at the latest,” Draco said.

“Let’s go,” Pansy said, grabbing his arm and leading him outside, pausing at her room to grab a coat for herself.

They hurried down the drive and called the knight bus which was actually carrying other passengers for once. Pansy explained to the driver where they wanted to go. Draco pretended not to notice how the woman with two children pulled them closer to her, and the old man with wispy silver hair glared at him, or the muttered ‘ _deatheater_ ’ from one of two sisters.

Luckily the maul was close by and they were soon off the infernal bus contraption and in a-

Draco turned on his heel as the knight bus disappeared. The maul was huge, and all around it muggles had made a massive pavement to fit all their automobiles. Muggles streamed in and out of a set of doors and Draco and Pansy followed them inside. There were shops and stands in the middle of massive walkways, proper moving stairs made of metal and everything was bright and clean and sharp.

And there were so many people, more than he had ever seen in one place. None of them cared about him in the slightest, except that he was in the way. Draco and Pansy started walking, letting themselves be pushed along by the crowd.

“Are you okay?” Pansy asked, grabbing hold of his arm.

Draco found himself smiling in disbelief, “Pansy there’s  _so many_ -” Pansy nodded, “-and this is just one- how many mauls are there?”

Pansy said, “At least one in every big town. London has more.”

“And V-Voldemort thought he could- I don’t know. It was  _nonsense_. Look at this!” Draco gestured to the crowd.

“ Well, he was mad,” Pansy said, stopping in front of a storefront display.

Draco looked at the clothes on the mannequins, when he looked around he could see the displays in three other clothing stores, all the clothes were different, entirely different styles and colour pallets and uses and there were more stores and more floors with more stores with even more people. The realisation struck Draco-

Their world was so small.

Why had he ever thought different?

“Let’s go in,” Pansy said, walking into the shop.

They explored racks and racks of clothes and had to figure out their size since muggles couldn’t instantly alter their clothes with magic. They fumbled with muggle money together and tried on all sorts of clothes and shoes and bought anything that caught their fancy. They had lunch at the shops in the centre, sharing each other’s pizza and burger which was terribly greasy and messy but also very good. And Pansy talked him into buying something for Potter.

  
  


* * *

  
  


They were exhausted and overwhelmed in the best sort of way when they got back, bursting into Draco’s rooms and dropping all the bags on the floor in a pile.

Pansy sat on the edge of his bed with a groan and kicked off her shoes.

Draco emptied the many coins from his jacket and the crumpled mix of notes left over from the shopping spree, taking the transfiguration off and dropping the robe onto the floor. He grabbed a large bag and took out the blue peacoat he had bought and pulled it on in front of his mirror

Pansy threw a bag at Draco’s face, “Here are your scarves.”

Draco pulled out the soft ivory scarf and wound it around his neck. Also in the bag was a matching scarf, hat and gloves in a vibrant green the colour of Potter’s eyes. Draco took off his coat and scarf, setting them to one side as he looked at the other scarf.

“Maybe I shouldn’t give it to him,” Draco said.

“Uughh, Merlin, not this again,” Pansy muttered.

Draco frowned at her, “We never talked about exchanging gifts.”

“It’s a scarf.”

“And hat and gloves. What if he thinks this is ‘moving too fast’ again?” Draco said.

“I don’t care. Slap him,” Pansy said, “Potter can’t keep his head in his arse forever.”

“That’s not helpful,” Draco said.

“Because I am so brimming with experience and knowledge,” Pansy said sarcastically.

Draco sighed, rubbing the soft fabric between his fingers.

“Just give it to him,” Pansy said. “You’re dating, that’s what people do when they’re dating.”

There was a soft tap-tap-tap on the open door.

Pansy bolted up from the bed, the colour draining from her face. Draco couldn’t convince himself to move at all.

“Kipper told me you were back,” Mother said, “I came to see about dinner.” She stepped into the room, carefully navigating the mess the two of them had left scattered across the floor. “… then it’s more than just friendship.”

Mother's shoes were simple white patent flats, peeking out under the trailing edge of her robes. She hooked a finger under Draco’s chin and lifted it, forcing him to look at her.

“I’m not angry,” Mother said.

Draco searched her expression but couldn’t read anything there, “You’re not?”

“Truthfully,” Mother said, picking her words carefully, “I suspected for a few years now that you had different proclivities. Although I thought you were like Pansy and not interested in anyone.”

Over his mother’s shoulder Draco saw Pansy grabbed hold of the bedpost in both hands like it was all that was holding her up. He quickly shook his head, “I didn’t tell her.”

Mother told Pansy, “You’re welcome here for as long as you wish. That has not changed,” She reached out and took Draco’s hand in both of hers, “Is it only boys? You don’t have any interest in girls?”

Draco stiffly shook his head, “No... no girls.”

Mother studied his expression, taking a deep breath and nodded, “I see.” She squeezed his hand, “Draco, do you want to have children?”

Draco blinked, “What?”

“Not now of course, in five or ten years maybe,” Mother said, “I could arrange for a surrogate from a good family.”

“I’m not really- I don’t-” Draco said weakly.

“Your father would be far more amiable if he was certain the family legacy would be preserved,” Mother said, “It’s very important to both of us.”

Draco knew this wasn't something she would budge on. No matter what happened there had to be an heir. The family had to carry on. He looked down at his hands, “In ten years. I would- of course.”

Mother smiled, “Wonderful.”

“Are you going to tell Father?” Draco asked in a small voice.

“In time. I wouldn’t want to put your father in a mood during the holidays,” Mother said. “Considering the boy in question though- The public will not be kind to you about this.”

“I know,” Draco said. He hesitated and asked, “You’re not upset about Potter?”

Mother looked thoughtful and patted his hand before letting it go, “I don’t know if I can truly be happy about anyone you might end up with Draco, but I know Harry Potter, and I know he won’t use you and I know he won’t hurt you. If he makes you happy, I won’t complain about the choice.”

“Thank you, Mother,” Draco said.

Mother brushed a kiss on his cheek, “Dinner is in half an hour, in the family dining room.”

Draco held his breath until his mother swept from the room closing the door behind her. Then he went over to his bed and collapsed onto it face first.

Pansy sat down next to him, “That went well?” she said tentatively.

Draco groaned into the bedspread.

“A kid in ten years, huh?” Pansy said absently.

“Merlin,” Draco managed a laugh, “more like fifteen, if ever.”

“It could have gone worse,” Pansy said.

“I don’t know,” Draco said, his words muffled.

Pansy reached over, running her fingers through his hair. She was shaking, “At least you weren’t disowned and kicked out of your home.”

“I know.”

“Are you upset?” Pansy asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Happy?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you know?” Pansy asked, only slightly sarcastic.

Draco rolled onto his side, “I feel upset and relieved and anxious, and a bit like I’m going to cry. My head's a mess.”

Pansy flopped down beside him, “Perfectly normal then.”

“Shut up.”

Pansy went back to brushing her fingers through his hair, “Cry then. It will make you feel better, we have time, and I know a glamour to hide the puffiness when you’re done.”

Draco squeezed his eyes shut and nodded.

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Young Master.”

Draco pulled one eye open just wide enough to see Kipper.

The dour old elf stared up at Draco through his eyebrows, “Young Master. It’s time to get up.”

“No. It’s not,” Draco said sourly.

“Mistress has prepared the blue room for breakfast. She is expecting you,” Kipper said.

Draco closed his eyes again.

“Young Master,” Kipper intoned, “Young Master. Young-”

Draco sat up and threw his pillow at Kipper’s face.

Kipper looked insufferably smug as the pillow slid to the ground.

Draco scrubbed his face, “I don’t know how Father could stand you.”

“The Master is a  _gentleman_  of the old ways,” Kipper said primly.

“Just because something has been done for ages doesn’t mean it isn’t utter shite,” Draco muttered.

“He understood the proper way of things,” Kipper went on.

Draco groaned. “You can observe the old ways as much as you bloody well like.”

Kipper frowned, “Young Master has said elves won’t be  _punished_. Young Master has given elves  _time off_. Young Master has given elves  _spending money_. Young master has allowed Mistress to run the household-”

“ Enough,” Draco snapped.

Kipper glowered at him and then stiffly bowed.

“No one said you have to take time off or money and you can bloody well punish yourself if that’s what gets you off,” Draco said shortly, shoving his sheets back, “And you’ll not say another ill word about my mother.”

“Not an ill word!” Kipper said quickly, a brief spark of panic in his eyes, “Mistress shouldn’t have to! Mistress should be at ease! Not worrying about moneys.”

Draco went to his dressing room, pulling out a comfortable sweater and pair of trousers. “She wanted to take care of everything, to keep busy.”

“She doesn’t want!” Kipper shouted.

Draco blinked in surprise, “Kipper-”

“This is why elves should be punished!” Kipper wailed.

Draco sighed and found a pair of socks.

“Elves must be kept in line! Elves mustn’t presume! Or shout!” Kipper grabbed his eyebrows, dragging them down as he dissolved into a pool of his own distress.

Draco went into the bath and grabbed a bottle out of the potion cabinet. He filled the eyedropper as he walked back to Kipper, “Open your mouth,” he said sternly.

Kipper tipped a blotchy face up towards Draco and obediently opened his mouth.

Draco gave him two drops of blue tinted liquid, “Swallow.”

Kipper blinked and blinked again and slowly relaxed from his face to his shoulders and tightly squeezed hands.

“Better?” Draco asked.

Kipper nodded.

“Good. Now, I’ll be down for breakfast soon enough.” Draco said, “You can return to your tasks. Go clean something, that always puts you in a better mood.”

“Yes, Young Master,” Kipper said sleepily, walking out of the room.

Draco looked at the vial thoughtfully, “The ratios are still a bit off.” He made a few mental notes as he got ready for the day.

  
  


  
  



	20. Chapter 20

Draco opened the door to the blue room and looked around in surprise. It was beautiful. Mother hadn’t decorated any of the rooms for the holidays, except this one apparently. It was draped with fairy lights and garlands, A tree in the corner had been decorated in silver and blue and Mother was wearing a dress to match, with silvery white snow drifting down the pale blue fabric.

“Happy Christmas, Draco,” Mother said, rising to her feet and holding out her hands.

Draco crossed the room and hugged her, “I didn’t know you had prepared anything.”

“It was a surprise,” Mother said, sitting back on the settee and pulling Draco down next to her, “You didn’t really think I’d miss christmas did you? You always love christmas.”

“Yes,” Draco said, knowing they were both ignoring the lingering cloud of the war hanging over them. Still, it had to be better than last christmas when he stayed at school, and his parents sent him books about defensive magic and duelling and an emergency portkey of his very own.

He helped himself to the light breakfast laid out on one of the tables and listened to Mother as she talked about her plans for continuing the renovation of the house. About an hour later, Pansy finally shuffled into the room, Tulip and Kipper on either elbow urging her forward.

Pansy slumped into a chair. Her hair was a mess, and it looked like she had been crying.

Mother stood and filled a plate with sweet pastries and fruit and placed it on Pansy’s knees, “Here you are dear.”

“I’m fine,” Pansy said quietly.

“Of course you are,” Mother said, somehow managing to not be condescending in the slightest.

“It’s not that I didn’t want to come,” Pansy said, blinking furiously to keep from crying.

Mother smoothed her fingers through Pansy’s hair, “There are times when people shouldn’t be alone. The holidays are one of them. We are glad to have you here.”

Pansy took a deep breath and let it out slowly, taking the plate in both hands as Mother stepped back.

His parents had always been big on opening gifts all together on christmas morning. It was a relief to be in this modest room with his mother and best friend. Not perfect of course. He missed the father he remembered from when he was young. He wondered what it would have been like to have christmas with Potter. But still, he wouldn’t have traded it for anything.

“Mistress, can I give out presents now?” Tulip asked, standing on the tips of her toes in excitement, her arms already full of festively wrapped parcels.

“You don’t have to, Tulip,” Mother said.

“I want to!” Tulip said, running to Draco and dropping three presents on his toes.

Mother sighed, smiling faintly, “You’re a dear, but I also want pictures. Would you rather hand out gifts or take pictures?”

Tulip froze, utterly torn between the two options.

“Tulip?” Mother prompted.

Tulips hazarded, “…Both?”

Mother frowned faintly but nodded anyway.

Draco picked up one of the many book shaped presents at his feet and tore the paper free to find a Potion book about rare ingredient interactions. He managed to resist the urge to open it and start reading and picked up the next present. There were books about studying for the NEWTs, books about brewing healing potions, books about rare spell and potion interactions and an encyclopedia set of magical plants and their brewing properties.

“Do you like them?” Mother asked, “I had to order by owl so I couldn’t be certain of their quality.”

“I adore them,” Draco said, giving in and flipping through one of the rarer potion books.

Pansy snorted and rolled her eyes.

Draco summoned his present for Pansy from Tulip’s hands and threw it at her.

“Hey!” Pansy sputtered, just barely managing to keep the package from falling into her breakfast.

“Shut it and open your present,” Draco said with a sniff, pretending to go back to his book as he watched her reaction from the corner of his eye.

Pansy put her plate on the side table and opened the large gift box, pushing her way past the tissue paper to the pale pink dress, accented in white gossamer and lace-like embroidery and matching white kitten heel shoes. “It’s lovely…” she said hesitantly, “but I don’t wear pink.”

“What’s your favourite colour?” Draco asked with a pointed look.

“Pink,” Pansy conceded.

“And your favourite kind of dress to wear- pretty and delicate?” Draco said.

Pansy frowned at him, “Yes fine, but I don’t wear those either.”

“You used to,” Draco said, “before your mother insisted it was childish.”

Pansy’s frown deepened as she looked at the dress.

Draco didn’t have a physical gift for his mother; he had arranged for her to have a robe or gown made for her by Kate, the young woman who had done his robe. It wouldn’t actually happen until mid-January, but Draco hoped it would give her something to look forward to once he had returned to school.

Tulip offered Pansy another present in simple silver wrapping paper.

Pansy opened it and laughed in disbelief.  
“What is it?” Draco asked leaning closer.

Pansy held up a book, “A history of the wars, from my mother,” She flipped the book open to the back, “Look she even helpfully bookmarked the part where I tried to give up Potter to the Dark Lord.” She glared at the book and added sarcastically, “Nice of them to add that in.”

Mother walked over, tugging the book out of Pansy’s hands and setting it aside, “Enough of that.” She put a pair of large slim boxes on Pansy’s lap, “These are from me.”

“For me?” Pansy looked from Mother to Draco and then back at the boxes. She carefully pulled the spellotape free from the immaculately wrapped package and gasped, “Is this-?”

“It’s the winter cosmetics collection from Divin,” Mother said.

Pansy grabbed the other package and quickly tore it open.

“That’s the spring collection. I put in an order for summer and fall as well, once they’re available.” Mother said, “I wasn’t sure what to get you, limited by my position as I am, but then I remembered from Draco’s letters that you are quite passionate about this sort of thing.”

Pansy opened the box, running her fingers over eyeshadows, lipsticks, and nail polish all neatly laid out in silver and black, stamped with Divin in looping cursive.

“I hope it’s to your liking,” Mother said.

Pansy quickly wiped her eyes, “I love it. Thank you very much.”

Mother looked very pleased. “I’ve never worn much makeup myself, I usually just throw on a light glamour. Perhaps you could teach me how to use it?”

Pansy nodded without hesitation. She waved at Tulip who brought over a small box and held it out to Mother.

“I- Draco helped me pick it out,” Pansy said.

Mother took the small box with a smile, “You shouldn’t have.” She opened the gift box and took out the jewellery box, carefully easing the lid open.

“It’s citrine,” Pansy said quickly, “and muggle. We got it at the muggle shopping centre. I hope you don’t mind.”

Mother lifted the simple teardrop gem on a thin golden chain, “It’s lovely. I didn’t know muggles could make something so fine.” She murmured a charm under her breath, and the chain clasped around her neck. Mother touched the gem and leaned down to sweep Pansy into a hug, “Thank you, Pansy dear.”

Tulip pressed a present into Draco’s hands, another book. Draco reluctantly set aside the potion book he was reading, tearing open the wrapping paper and froze. The title was, unfortunately, familiar, from the first three volumes he already owned: The Young Wizard’s Guide to Growing Up. Vol 4. (NEW!) For the Queer Magic User -All your Questions, Quandaries and Quomodo’s answered!!!-

Draco groaned in dismay.

Mother walked over to his chair, “It occurred to me after our discussion a few days ago that the ones your father and I got you when you were thirteen wouldn’t be terribly helpful for your situation.”

Draco fought down another groan and tried to his best to force a smile that ended up feeling like a grimace, “Very thoughtful,” he mumbled.

Pansy had waved Tulip over and was frantically gesturing for her to take a photo.

Draco was about to shoot a glare at them when his mother continued.

“After all, it’s important that you stay safe,” Mother said primly, “You are being safe aren’t you?”

The sound that came out of Draco was something like a half-choked death rattle as he slumped down into his chair, his face turning bright red. He held the book up like a shield because if he had to see any more words come out of his mother’s mouth about his potential sex life, he would have to die.

“Draco? This is important,” Mother said.

Pansy’s whole body was shaking with silent laughter.

“Draco- Merlin help me- I’m not asking for details,” Mother said, “I just need to know-”

“safe, yes” Draco managed weakly, “of course”

“Good,” Mother said.

Pansy gasped, her face as red as his from laughing hard enough to burst a blood vessel, “They’ve only kissed!”

Mother turned to Pansy, “Really?”

Pansy nodded frantically as she tried to catch her breath.

“I suppose I thought two young men would be more…”

Draco pressed the book to his face, slumping so far down he was nearly off the chair.

“…handsy,” Mother finished. “Well, they were when I was at school.”

Pansy snorted, “Those two have no idea what they’re doing.”

“Ah, yes,” Mother said, “with everything that… happened. I supposed that isn’t surprising.” She turned back to Draco and frowned, “Sit up properly. You’re going to hurt your back fooling around like that.”

Draco sulkily pushed himself back up into the chair to the sound of Pansy’s laughter.

Mother swished her wand and vanished all the wrapping paper, “That’s everything?”

Tulip shuffled forward and hesitantly passed out three more gifts, wrapped in a bright paper covered with balloons and obviously meant for a birthday. “For you. From Tulip,” Tulip said.

Draco took the one with his name written on it and struggled to get it open, there was far too much paper and spellotape. Inside was a picture frame, the frame was painted white and decorated with a random cacophony of fake gems and pretty buttons, the picture was the one Tulip had taken when he and Pansy had first come home. It started just like a formal portrait, with them standing stiffly and staring at the camera, but by the end of the loop they were all looking at each other and smiling. It looked so normal. So wonderfully normal.

“This is- Thank you,” Draco said with the sort of earnest sincerity that still felt a bit strange to him.

“It’s wonderful,” Mother said.

Pansy nodded in agreement.

Tulip beamed with delight, both hands curled up in her flower-patterned pillowcase.

“There is something- I was going to wait until boxing day but-” Mother set the picture on the table and hurried toward the door, “I’ll be right back.”

Pansy was studying the photo with a thoughtful expression on her face.

“Where’s my present then?” Draco teased.

Pansy rolled her eyes, “As if I’m going to buy you a present with money I have to borrow from you while you’re standing right there.”

“You bought my mother a present with my money,” Draco said.

“That’s different,” Pansy said.

Draco said, “I wouldn’t have minded.”

“I would have,” Pansy said stubbornly. She sniffed and said, “I’ll give you a makeover for christmas.”

“I quite like how I look without you messing with it,” Draco said.

“Of course you do,” Pansy rolled her eyes. She said thoughtfully, “Then…I’ll give you a manicure instead.”

Draco laughed, “You don’t even know what that is!”

“I will soon enough, and then I’ll give you one,” Pansy said.

They both looked towards the door as his mother returned, box in hand. She sat on the couch, “Tulip, here,” she held it out.

Tulip took the present with shaking hands. It was wrapped in shiny blue paper, and Tulip eased the spellotape off and unfolded the wrapping as if it was just as precious as the box inside it was. The paper was soon forgotten and drifted to the ground as Tulip stared at the box and then hurriedly opened it, taking out a camera small enough to have been made for her.

“It’s the latest model from Japan. It’s far better than your old one but smaller so you can manage it better, with added lightening and stabilising charms.” Mother said, “I bought the photo paper and film as well. I know they’re very expensive.”

Tulip very, very carefully set the camera on the table where it wouldn’t fall, before wrapping herself around Mother’s legs to cry great wet heaving sobs of blubbering happiness.

Mother awkwardly patted Tulips back, “I’m glad you like it.”

Pansy was trying not to laugh. Draco sighed.

Kipper shuffled into the room, a lumpy sort of- something in his arms. It was wrapped in red paper patterned with a jolly fat man Draco had seen quite a lot of at the muggle shopping centre.

“A package just arrived for you, Young Master,” Kipper said holding out the lump.

Draco recognised the untidy scrawl on the side of the package as Potter’s.

“Wait- Wait,” Pansy stumbled through the gifts littered all around them.

“What?” Draco demanded grumpily, wanting to open his present.

Pansy leaned over the back of his chair, “I want to enjoy this.”

Draco frowned at her.

“Oh come on!” Pansy said, “He obviously just sent that in a panic when he got your gift, with reused paper and- who knows what inside! It could be socks! It's going to be amazing.”

Draco said, “If it was done in a panic it would have come earlier, I’m sure the Weasley’s are too impatient to wait to open their gifts.”

Pansy said, “You mean they don’t sleep until noon until they're dragged out of bed by their house elf.”

Draco frowned harder at her. “I appreciate the fact that he wanted to reciprocate at all.”

“It’s  _the thought that counts_?” Pansy said with amused disbelief.

“ I am going to transfigure you into a frog,” Draco said flatly.

Pansy laughed.

“A toad,” Draco muttered, tearing the paper open. Inside was a soft red sweatshirt, starting to fade and a little worn on the cuffs.

“What is-?” Pansy asked, “is that- Haven’t I seen Potter wearing that?”

“He sent you second-hand clothing?” Mother asked looking confused and disappointed.

“It’s his _favourite_ ,” Draco said defensively, holding the shirt up and then carefully folding it. He could smell Potter, and it took all his willpower not to bury his face in the fabric.

Pansy sighed and went back to her chair, slumping into it with a groan, “It’s no fun if you actually like it and of course you’d like it because you’re ridiculous.”

“It’s a bit…” Mother trailed off.

“Ugly,” Pansy finished, “You can’t even wear it.”

“Of course not,” Draco agreed. But it would be a nice shirt to sleep in. And he was certain he had seen a charm in the library used to preserve a smell. It’s not like anyone had to know. Draco ducked his head, smiling as he squeezed the shirt tight to his chest.

  
  



	21. Chapter 21

“His name was Tom.”

Draco looked up from filling his glass, “What?”

Pansy tipped back the bottle in her hands and managed three gulps before she started coughing.

“You deserve that,” Draco said, “Only a moron tries to chug champagne.”

Pansy wiped her mouth. “It burns-” she choked out.

Draco rolled his eyes and sipped the very nice champagne Mother had gotten for them, leaning back on the couch he was sharing with Pansy in the sitting area in her bedroom.

“Draco! His name was  _Tom_. Tom Marvolo Riddle,” Pansy held up the book her mother had sent her about the wars. “No wonder he changed it to Voldemort.” She gulped more champagne.

Draco skimmed over the page, his eyebrows rising, “An anagram? Oh, that is  _so_ tacky.”

Pansy snorted and fell to another coughing fit.

Draco smirked.

“ fuck you,” Pansy said after another weak cough.

Draco picked up a glass from the table and offered it to her.

Pansy pointedly tipped the bottle up for another swallow, more successfully this time.

“If you want to get drunk that badly, I can get the fire whiskey,” Draco said putting the glass back.

“Champagne first,” Pansy said, “It’s new years, you’re meant to have champagne on new years.”

“Not the way you’re drinking it,” Draco said, taking a sip and  _enjoying_  the bubbles on his tongue.

Pansy picked up her book again, “Can you imagine if he hadn’t picked a new name?” She put on a snotty voice, “Hello I’m  _Tom_ , I like murder and blood supremacy, it gets me off.”

Draco laughed.

Pansy grinned and flipped to the next page, “Fucking fuck-”

“What-?”

“- _Tom_  was a half-blood,” Pansy said

Draco blinked, “That’s not- Wouldn’t the papers have said something?”

Pansy dropped the book between them and tapped on the page, “See! His father was a fucking muggle!”

Draco read the section and then reread it.

“The papers are too busy beating off to Potter and his lot. Besides this sort of thing would have made it look like any wizard could go off their fucking rocker. It would completely ruin the evil pure-blood rhetoric they have going on,” Pansy took another drink of champagne, and shoved the book onto the floor.

“Merlin,” Draco sighed, leaning back.

“Do you think it’s his fault?” Pansy asked.

“The war? I’m pretty sure it was,” Draco said.

Pansy kicked at him, managing by sheer luck to clip him with her heel.

Draco batted her foot away with a glare.

“I meant-” Pansy took a deep breath, “I meant ruining it- Slytherin loyalty. Before him maybe it was loyalty, and he ruined it. He’s why it’s obedience now.”

Draco took a rather larger sip of champagne and topped up his glass.

“Parents and Deatheaters and upper years all telling us to be loyal when they meant obedient,  _stupid_  and obedient,” Pansy muttered, “It’s too late for us to fix it. Isn’t it? I mean, I could tell the younger years that loyalty means-  _should_  mean being loyal to those that are loyal to you but- but they wouldn’t listen because it’s  _me,_  the bint that tried to hand Potter over to the dark- to  _Tom_.”

“ You’re getting maudlin,” Draco said, pulling the bottle away from Pansy and giving her his glass. He filled up a fresh glass for himself and set the bottle on the far side of the table. “Tell me about your sleepover again,” He said.

Pansy narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

“It’s interesting,” Draco insisted.

Pansy glare began to falter despite her best efforts. She took a huge swallow of champagne. “We must have walked around half of London and visited tons of salons and spas and shops selling all sorts of cosmetics, machines and perfumes too, and we went and had a manicure- OH! I think I have everything-” she shot to her feet, finishing the last of the glass and shoving it on the table as she hurried over to her crowded vanity.

“What are you doing?” Draco asked.

“I promised you a manicure for christmas!” Pansy shouted back and nearly lost her balance. She caught herself on the vanity and giggled. “What colour polish do you want?” she asked.

Draco lifted his glass to his lips, “Blue.”

“Really?!” Pansy said excitedly, “I thought for sure you’d tell me to fuck off!”

“I can always take it off before we go back, can’t I?” Draco said.

Pansy walked back more carefully, hands full of nail files and clippers, and things he didn’t recognise in the least, and a bottle of lacquer.

Draco took the little bottle from her and looked at it, it was closer to a blueish teal, but he quite liked it.

Pansy leaned over to grab the bottle of champagne and refilled her glass, taking a drink before grabbing his hand. “Here, I’ll- Right,” she tossed the clippers away, “Should’ve known your nails would be neat as fuck already.”

Draco grinned faintly, “Merlin, you swear like a sailor when you’re pissed.”

“You love it,” Pansy said, starting to file his nails one at a time, squinting at them as she wavered slightly.

Draco prompted, “So you got a manicure-?”

“-and pedicure and it was wonderful…” Pansy sighed, relaxing into an easy smile, “And we went back to Jenna’s house because her parents are both muggle and have a massive tele-vision for watching movies on.”

“The moving pictures as long as a play,” Draco said.

Pansy dropped the file and took some sort of cream and put it on his cuticles and then used a strange tool to push his cuticles down. “They are as long as a play but the camera moves too, and there’s music, and it’s actually interesting. We watched Jen and Mel’s favourite movie, it’s called Clueless and-” she cleaned his hands, pausing to have more champagne, before shaking the nail lacquer and slowly unscrewing the top, “-its where all the, whatever and gag me with a spoon and- it’s called, um, valley girl talk or something-fuck,” she wavered and brushed polish up the side of his thumb.

“We can do this tomorrow, you know?” Draco said.

“Shut up,” Pansy said, wiping the smear of polish off onto the couch. She pressed Draco’s hand flat onto the couch cushion and lifted the little brush again, her hand moving back and forth like a pendulum. Pansy frowned and abruptly sat on the floor, resting her forearm and wrist on the couch to keep it steady. “Anyway, it was so funny. I would’ve watched three more times but it was late, and we could barely keep our eyes open. When I have my own place, I’m going to have a tele-vision of my own and watch all sorts of movies. It’s sooo much better than reading books, and you’re not in a stuffy theatre so you can just lay about and eat ice cream in your pants if you want.”

Pansy rested her cheek on her arm, “Pour me more champagne?”

Draco poured a small amount into Pansy’s glass and passed it down to her. She took a sip and set it on the floor.

“Why did we always make fun of hufflepuffs?” Pansy asked abruptly, colouring his nails in slow, sleepy strokes, “They’re wonderful, aren’t they? So nice and supportive. Lovegood and Longbottom too, they’re not proper hufflepuffs, but they  _feel_  like ones.”

“Jenna and Melanie didn’t feel much like hufflepuffs,” Draco said.

“Eat shit,” Pansy murmured half-heartedly, “Not every hufflepuff is nauseatingly nice. They’re supportive and hard-working and bitchy in just the right sort of way.”

“What exactly is the right sort of way to be bitchy?” Draco asked.

Pansy rolled her eyes, “The sort where they’re only bitchy when they like you. You should know.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Draco asked.

“The more you like someone, the more insufferable you are,” Pansy said.

Draco paused with his glass halfway to his mouth, “I am  _not_.”

Pansy dissolved into giggles.

Draco huffed in annoyance. He took a sip of champagne and asked, knowing he could get an honest answer out of her at this stage of drunk, “Pansy. Do you still hate that I like Potter?”

“ You’re idiots.” Pansy said flatly. She put the nail lacquer away, “I need to put a top coat on…” she fumbled for her wand, and Draco quickly snatched it away.

“No casting when pissed. Unless you want to end up with green hair for a week- again,” Draco said.

“Summon it for me. Accio diamond clear topcoat,” Pansy held out a hand towards the vanity.

Draco sighed and used Pansy’s wand to summon the bottle, catching it out of the air so Pansy wouldn’t have the chance to drop it. He shook the bottle like he had seen her do and opened it for her, handing her the brush.

“You better not have smudged my work,” Pansy said, and what would have normally been threatening came out pouty.

“Of course not,” Draco said setting his hands back down on the cushions.

Pansy started putting on the top coat with a yawn.

Draco tried again, “Pansy, what do you think about Potter and I?”

Pansy hummed under her breath, eyes half closed as she worked. He was starting to think she wasn’t going to answer at all when she said, “I still hate it.”

“oh.”

“Not as much though, which is annoying,” Pansy said, “Potter’s a prat but… you make each other happy. So even if it doesn’t work out, it’s probably worth the trouble just for that.”

Pansy sat up and slowly put the brush back into the bottle and twisted it closed, “I have to charm it impermeable.”

“I do not want you casting anywhere near me right now,” Draco said.

“I can do it,” Pansy said, “I can. I’ve cast it hundreds of times, and it’s harmless if I mess it up. I messed it up a lot before I finished the charm properly.”

Draco hesitated.

“I can do it,” Pansy said firmly.

Against his better judgement, Draco gingerly gave Pansy her wand and held his hands as far away from his body as possible.

Pansy took a deep breath and went very still, then cast the charm perfectly, hiccuped, tossed her wand on the couch and laid her head back on the cushions. “Is it midnight?” she asked with her eyes closed.

Draco opened his pocket watch, his blue-green nails vivid against the gold case, it was still a half an hour to. “Yes, just now,” he lied.

“Happy new year, Draco,” Pansy smiled, “I think this one might be okay.”

“Happy New year, Pans.” Draco stood, taking Pansy arm and pulling her up, “Let’s get you to bed now.”

Pansy grumbled at him.

Draco sighed, “You always do this you know. You’re far more of a lightweight than you think you are.”

“Am not,” Pansy said, “Just late and tired.”

Draco led her over to her bed, already turned down and let Pansy collapse onto the sheets. She had already shucked her shoes hours ago. Draco considered trying to help her out of her dress but it was done up by buttons instead of a zipper, and frankly, he couldn’t be bothered.

Draco pulled the sheets and comforter up, leaving a glass of water and a headache potion by her bed for the morning. Draco took the last half-empty bottle of champagne and his glass back to his own rooms.

Draco got ready for bed, leaving his pocket watch out and open on his bed so he could see the time. As it ticked closer to midnight, he splashed just a swallow of champagne into the bottom of the glass. He watched the minute hand land on midnight and lifted his glass in a sarcastic salute before finishing it off and then heading to the bathroom. He had just finished his teeth cleaning charm when he felt someone come through the manor’s wards.

A shiver of dread raced down his spine.

Draco slammed out of his room, running down the hall, the steps and into the entryway, his wand held tight in his hand. Kipper was already at the door, being stubbornly helpful, and pulled it open for Draco as he approached.

But there was no mob, no angry mother, or rogue auror. It was just Potter, breathing heavily like he had run the whole way, his hair sticking up in every direction.

Draco slowly lowered his wand.

Potter smiled, “Hey.”

  
  



	22. Chapter 22

“Potter?!” Draco said, “What are you doing here?”

“I just…” Potter said.

Draco stepped outside, “Has something happened?”

Potter shook his head, “I was at the new year’s party and Hermione had Ron, Ginny had Luna and- you’re supposed to kiss who you want to spend the rest of the year with- but you weren’t there.”

Draco’s chest squeezed tight, his heart racing.

Potter wavered, “Erm, this is weird, isn’t it? I shouldn’t have-”

Draco put his hand over Potter’s mouth, “This is the most romantic thing to ever happen to me, don’t fucking ruin it.”

Potter raised his eyebrows.

“Just kiss me, you moron,” Draco said.

Potter pulled Draco’s hand off his mouth and threaded their fingers together, and kissed him.

Draco said, “Now you tell me, Happy New Year, Draco.”

Potter shook his head in disbelief, fighting back a smile, “I’ve missed you.”

Draco blinked at Potter and couldn’t remember what he had been saying.

“Are you alright?” Potter asked, with that funny little furrow between his eyes.

Draco frowned, “I am so annoyed with you right now.”

“What? Why?”

Draco ignored the question with a huff, “Are you going to stay? Or did you just come for a kiss?”

Potter looked up at the manor with trepidation then at Draco, “I think I want to stay.”

“fuck,” Draco muttered.

“I can go if you’d rather-”

“No.” Draco said peevishly, “Did you tell anyone you were coming here?”

Potter instantly looked sheepish.

“You impulsively apparated over, didn’t you?”

He nodded.

“Of course,” Draco sighed and stepped inside, “We’re going to have to borrow Mother’s owl, so no one thinks I’ve kidnapped you.” He held out his hand, “Harry? Are you coming?”

Harry jumped liked he’d been shocked, and Draco started to flush even though he’d been trying to maintain his composure.

“Harry?” Harry repeated.

Draco glared at him, “That is your name, yes? Did you land on your head?”

“No. I mean yes. I mean that’s my name and no I didn’t land on my head,” Harry said faintly and then grinned like a moron.

“I’m not sure I believe you,” Draco said and dragged him inside, sparing a glare for Kipper who closed the door behind them. “Kipper, would you tell Mother that Harry Potter is visiting?”

“An order, Young Master?” Kipper asked, looking like the picture of perfect obedience if you didn’t grow up with the elf and could recognise the vindictive satisfaction in his expression.

“A  _request_ ,” Draco said, knowing the distinction didn’t matter to Kipper.

Kipper bowed and disappeared.

“You’re wearing it,” Harry said.

Draco followed Harry’s gaze down to the faded red sweatshirt, “I was about to go to bed.”

“You wear it to bed?” Harry said.

“Well, I’m not going to wear it in public,” Draco said feeling his face get hot.

Harry grinned, “I’m amazed you’re wearing it at all. I hoped it’d be alright. I know it’s not as nice as your gift.”

“It was a scarf,” Draco said.

“And gloves and a hat.”

“So?” Draco said.

“And in my favourite colour,” Harry said.

Draco shrugged, “I just happen to see them when I was out with Pansy.”

“And  _muggle_ ,” Harry said pointedly.

Draco rolled his eyes, “You know what, yes, you’re entirely right. My gift was astonishingly good, and you should probably get me another to catch up. Thank you for pointing that out.”

Harry froze for just a second and then laughed.

Draco smiled.

Harry grinned and plucked at the sweatshirt, “Then I should just take this back now.”

“Over my dead body,” Draco snapped before he could stop himself.

Harry laughed, “Oh? I thought you wanted something nicer.”

“You can’t take back a gift,” Draco said with a sniff.

“You’re right; I should wait until I have the better gift  _and then_  exchange them,” Harry said, being far too amused with himself and not at all good at hiding it.

Draco narrowed his eyes, “I  _said_ , over my dead body, Potter.”

Harry blinked, “Potter? What happened to Harry?”

“He’s right here,” Draco said, poking Harry in the chest, “apparently suffering from brain damage after landing on his head.”

“No, I meant-”

“I know what you meant,” Draco said, “and if you’re going to be a tit I’m going to call you Potter.”

Harry’s smile softened, “I’ll have to be good then.”

“Unlikely,” Draco scoffed.

Harry shrugged.

Draco brushed his hand through Harry’s hair, and Harry sighed, his eyes drifting shut. Draco wasn’t sure who moved or if they both did, wrapping their arms around one another. Harry pressed his face into the curve of Draco’s neck as Draco rested his cheek against Harry’s hair. He breathed in deeply, and it was a thousand times better than the faint scent caught in Harry’s old sweatshirt. When he exhaled, Draco felt like he was letting out a breath he hadn’t even known he was holding. He had missed the little twat terribly.

“How long will you stay?” Draco asked quietly, “I could get tea or I could get whiskey-”

“or I could go back to school with you,” Harry interrupted.

“That’s the day after tomorrow.”

“Funnily enough, I know how calendars work,” Harry said.

That would mean preparing a room, or perhaps Harry might want to share his and Draco wasn’t sure what that would mean.

Harry kissed Draco’s neck and made him shiver. He leaned back, searching Draco’s expression, “Is that alright? Me staying?”

Draco nodded.

“It’s just you’re being quiet,” Harry said.

Draco slowly smiled and Harry slowly narrowed his eyes.

Draco laughed, “It’s nothing.”

Harry didn’t look convinced.

“I was just thinking about something but it can wait,” Draco said, taking Harry’s hand once more.

“What happened to this place?” Harry asked, looking around at the walls.

“Paint isn’t at the top of my mother’s list of priorities,” Draco said, gripping Harry’s hand firmly and leading him straight down the entry hall. Harry was too busy looking around to notice where Draco was taking him, which was for the best because Draco was fairly certain he would have dug in his heels immediately.

“I don’t remember everything being so… blank…” Harry said and then asked, “Where are we going?”

“Here,” Draco said, opening one of the double doors to the ballroom.

Harry’s whole body stiffened.

Draco pulled open the other door. Inside the sconces began lighting automatically. They were the only original part of the room left.

“We pulled up the parquet floor and replaced it with sealed purified marble. Stone can’t hold dark magic very well, wood and fabric, the softer a material is, the more dark magic can seep into it,” Draco said stepping inside, his footsteps ringing around the empty space. “Dark magic leaves a residue that you can feel under your skin in the worst sort of way.”

Harry remained frozen in the doorway.

“We obviously couldn’t take down the walls, not easily anyway, but three layers of plaster with three layers of a purifying wash and three layers of protective charms is enough to not only stop it but slowly dissipate it,” Draco turned on his heel in the centre of the room, “What was left of the chandeliers were put in the attic. Any furniture that was too tainted was removed… and by removed I mean that we burned them, a great massive pile in the back gardens. …It will probably never be used as a ballroom again.”

“Why did you bring me here?” Harry asked quietly, the silence catching his words and bouncing them from wall to wall.

“Because, if you weren’t thinking about it now, you would have, and it would have been lingering at the back of your mind. Because you’re meant to be thinking about me and not some empty room,” Draco said. He walked back to Harry and stopped, “Better to just face it.”

Draco went to walk past Harry, but he caught Draco’s wrist. Harry hesitated for a second then the walked into the room, pulling Draco with him.

Harry walked around the ballroom in a circle and then slowly turned, his eyes searching for something on the floor, eventually leading them to a spot that Draco remembered himself, when he had been dragged over to identify Harry.

Harry took a deep breath and then lead them to the centre of the room where Bellatrix had- Draco shuddered and looked away.

Harry looked up at the empty ceiling. “Were you hurt, when it fell?” he asked quietly.

“Bruises mostly, a few small cuts,” Draco replied in the same hushed tones.

Harry headed across the ballroom, pulling open the small door at the back to the narrower servants hallways connecting the ballroom to the kitchens and wine cellar. He stopped in front of the archway leading down to the wine cellar, but all that was left was an archway of stone filled with red bricks.

Harry ran his hand over the new smooth brickwork, “It’s-? What happened?”

“…A few weeks before school, Luna and I filled it with concrete and stone and brick and anything we could conjure,” Draco said.

“That’s good, that Luna helped,” Harry said.

Draco added, “If I had known you and I were going to become close, I would have invited you. It was quite cathartic.”

Harry smiled, “Yeah. That might have been fun.”

“Too bad you thought I was still a dick at the time,” Draco said.

Harry raised an eyebrow, his smile tilting into a smirk, “Pretty sure you still are.”

Draco hesitated and then shrugged, “You’re the one who likes me regardless.”

“I am pretty fucked up,” Harry agreed.

Draco laughed despite himself and tried to fight it back, covering his mouth with the back of his hand.

Harry caught Draco’s wrist and pulled it away, matching Draco’s grin with his own that set them both laughing and untied the knot of tension between them.

Harry looked down the hall and back at Draco, “I suppose, I ought to owl Molly, so she knows where I’ve gone.”

Draco nodded and took the lead, guiding Harry down the narrow hallway and through the kitchens. Draco nicked a pair of iced buns set under stasis for the morning and passed one to Harry, biting into it as they made their way up the stairs and down the narrow carpet running down the hall to his Mother’s room.

Draco tapped on the door frame, “Mother? I’m sorry to disturb you.”

“You’re not disturbing me,” Mother said.

Draco handed Harry his half-eaten bun before stepping inside, “I need to borrow Armand if he hasn’t gone hunting for the night.”

Mother was standing by the window, her back ramrod straight, she looked him over to make sure he was all in one piece before her eyes went over his shoulder, “Mr Potter, welcome to my home.”

“Erm, thank you. Sorry to trouble you,” Harry said awkwardly putting his hands behind his back to hide the pair of buns as he shuffled into the room.

Mother nodded ever so slightly, her expression entirely unreadable, “It’s no trouble.” She walked silently over to the writing desk and set out a small piece of message parchment and a quill, “Do you require anything else?”

Harry’s expression briefly contorted into panic as he slowly walked to the desk, hands still behind his back.

Draco bit his lip to keep from laughing. His mother must have seen something in his expression because her mask cracked just briefly as she raised an eyebrow.

Harry looked from the desk to Draco with a pleading expression.

Draco finally took mercy on the prat and conjured a plate and held it out, “Here, Potter,” he said, shaking his head in dismay.

Harry narrowed his eyes as he put the buns down.

Draco kindly cast a cleaning charm on Harry’s hands as well in case they had icing on them.

A second eyebrow went up on his mother’s face.

Draco did his best to look innocent even though he knew she wouldn’t be fooled in the slightest.

Harry picked up the quill and Mother brushed her hand over Armand’s feathers before taking Draco by the elbow and steering him to the other side of her room.

“Have you read the book?” Mother asked quietly.

“Mother!” Draco hissed.

Mother’s grip on his elbow tightened, “Will he be staying in a guest room or in your rooms?”

Draco gaped at her, feeling a flush creeping up his neck, “That’s- He hasn’t said-”

“So, have you read the book?” Mother repeated firmly.

Draco managed a nod, “Yes, I- Yes.”

“You’re an adult, Draco. I’m not going to say who you can and can’t have in your rooms,” Mother said, “I just want you to be safe.”

Draco nodded again, looking at his Mother’s ear and definitely not at her or Harry.

Mother added, “You might lend Mr Potter that book. I know Hogwarts education is  _quite_  lacking in some areas.”

Armand flapped his wings irritably as Harry affixed the letter to his leg. “I’m finished. Do I open a window?” Harry asked looking at the tall narrow windows.

Mother gave Draco a pointed look before walking back to the desk. She briefly held out her arm as she went past Armand and he alighted from his perch and onto her forearm. She carried him to the far window by the wall and opened it, “Deliver this letter to the Weasley Home, Ottery St Catchpole in Devon. Any particular recipient Mr Potter?” Mother asked without turning to look.

Harry started, fumbling after his words, “Uh, well, anyone that’s there would be fine…”

Mother’s voice dropped to a whisper as she told Armand his instructions once more held her arm out the window. The owl spread his massive wings, and they caught the moonlight for a second before Draco lost all sight of him. There was a faint click as Mother closed the window and turned to them, her hands neatly folded together in front of her, “It’s getting quite late.”

Draco retrieved the plate of iced buns, “Yes, goodnight, Mother.

Harry took a few steps towards the door, hesitating, “Thanks again.”

Mother nodded, “I hope your stay here is pleasant.”

Draco held back when he saw his mother walking to intercept him before the door.

Mother brush her hand over his arm, murmuring just loud enough for him to hear, “I’d like to have dinner with both of you tomorrow. Otherwise, you’re free to do as you wish.”

Draco nodded.

Mother hugged him and then waved them both off, “Go on.”

  
  



	23. Chapter 23

Harry was waiting by the door and shut it behind them. He cleared his throat, “…I don’t think you mum likes me very much.”

“She only loves four people and is indifferent at best towards the rest,” Draco said, “She doesn’t really do ‘like’ if that makes you feel any better.”

“Does she know about- about you and me?” Harry asked.

“For about a week now.”

Harry said, “She didn’t set me on fire so it couldn’t have gone too badly. Unless it didn’t. Should I be worried about being murdered in my sleep?”

Draco gave him a look, “Really?”

“I was joking?” Harry said.

Draco rolled his eyes. “It's _fine_ ,” he said, leading Harry into his rooms.

“This is the sitting room,” Draco pointed flippantly, “bedroom to the left, bathroom and dressing room to the right.”

“Is this… your room?” Harry asked, wandering around and looking through the open doorway into his bedroom.

“Yes? Who else do imagine it belonged to?” Draco said, crossing the table in front of the crackling fireplace. He put down his plate and picked up the abandoned bottle of champagne.

Harry shrugged, “Anyone? Or no one. It looks like a hotel room, a really fancy one but still.” He walked around and looked into the bathroom, “I thought there would be more…you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Draco asked filling his glass.

“There are no-” Harry gestured around, “Posters or knick-knacks or even books, you’ve got to have books.”

Draco followed Harry gaze to the muted blue walls, the rugs were blue, white and grey, the drapes were a soft grey as well. The walls were blank, the tables were all empty aside from his nightstand, there was nothing on the floor or on the furniture. It looked almost exactly as is had the day he took the room as his own.

“I have a personal study for all my books and notes,” Draco said. He tapped the side of the glass anxiously. “…This isn’t the room I grew up in,” he said, taking a bracing swallow of champagne.

Harry’s brow furrowed.

Draco held out the glass and Harry took it without thinking and then frowned at his hand. “It’s champagne,” Draco said.

“It’s a nice room, I suppose. You must have moved in recently,” Harry said, sitting next to him and sipping the champagne, “Oh. This is good.”

Draco raised an eyebrow.

Harry shrugged, “They’ve always got champagne at ministry things, and it’s usually crap.”

“There’s hope for you yet, Harry Potter,” Draco said, finishing off his bun.

“I like your nails.”

Draco twitched in surprise, turning his hands over to look at them, “I forgot. Pansy did them as a christmas gift.”

Harry took one of his hands, running his thumb over the shiny blue-green lacquer, “It suits you, unsurprisingly.”

“Why?” Draco asked suspiciously

“Because you look good in everything.”

Draco smiled at the praise. “Not true. I look awful in yellow. If you ever buy me anything yellow I will incendio it on sight.”

“Not even as a joke?” Harry asked.

Draco raised an eyebrow, “If that’s what amuses you, feel free to indulge.”

Harry laughed, “Good thing you weren’t sorted into hufflepuff.”

Draco shuddered, “ _Ugh_.”

Harry laughed again.

“ Although, the colours are yellow  _and_  black so I could have just worn black,” Draco said.

Harry offered Draco the glass of champagne.

“I’ve had enough,” Draco said, shaking his head.

Harry picked up the bottle and poured out the last few swallows, “You can have the rest of that bun if you like.”

“Excellent,” Draco said, helping himself.

“Is your old room still- Could I see it?” Harry asked.

Draco froze, iced bun halfway to his mouth.

“I’d like to see it.”

Draco nibbled on the bun with a frown. He took a deep breath, “Tomorrow then.” He quickly changed the subject, “So, I can show you to a guest room, or you can stay here.”

“No offence but this place it too creepy to be on my own,” Harry said.

Draco said sarcastically, “Is it? I hadn’t noticed.”

“You don’t mind?” Harry asked.

“No.”

“It’d probably just be sle-”

“That’s fine,” Draco said.

“On account of the creepy thing,” Harry said.

Draco glared at him, “Yes, thanks  _so much_  for bringing it up again.”

Harry grinned briefly, “And there might be nightmares.”

Draco stared at him flatly for a few seconds then said with faux surprise, “Oh, you meant yourself.”

“Ha. Ha.” Harry said.

“Do you need anything?” Draco asked.

“Can I use your bathroom?”

Draco nodded, pulling on a pair of pyjama bottoms while Potter was gone.

Harry leaned out of the door, “Hey, do you have a toothbrush I could use?”

“Have you somehow not learned how to do a mouth cleaning charm?” Draco asked as he walked over.

Harry had stripped out of his jumper and jeans, to the baggy teeshirt and boxers underneath.

Harry sighed, “No I have, but mine tastes odd.”

“Odd,” Draco repeated, “Are you casting it correctly?”

“Yes,” Harry rolled his eyes, “everyone’s charm turns out different. Hermione’s is a strong cinnamon, really strong, and Ron, his charm leaves kind of an orange aftertaste and mine is just strange. None of us could place it.”

Draco frowned.

“You didn’t know that?” Harry said.

Draco said, “….Mothers and mine are both mint.”

“Makes sense, I guess. You are related.”

“I did remember hers being milder. I’d always thought I misremembered.” Draco looked around, “Where’s your wand?”

“Why?” Harry asked.

“Well, now I need to know,” Draco said, taking his own wand out of the waistband of his pyjamas and holding it out to Harry.

Harry hesitated, his fingers curling in nervously.

“Come on,” Draco said impatiently, “You managed to cast with it perfectly well in the past.”

Harry gingerly took Draco’s wand and smiled faintly to himself, “Still friendly.”

“What does-” Draco stopped mid-question as Harry’s charm hit him in the mouth. The lingering taste of iced buns and champagne vanished, leaving a new flavour, mildly sweet and floral.

Harry shrugged with a nervous smile, “See? Strange.”

“It’s not strange at all! It’s violets!” Draco laughed.

“Violets?”

“Candied violets?” Draco said, “Haven’t you had them before?”

Harry’s brow furrowed, “…Maybe once, when Aunt Marge came to visit. I’m not sure I like violets much.”

“Well, I quite like them,” Draco said.

Harry gave Draco his wand back, “Will you do me then?”

“Without a doubt,” Draco said with a sly grin.

“I didn’t mean it like th-!” Harry sucked in a shocked breath as Draco cast the charm, and fell to coughing. “Merlin-!” he gasped, “-that’s as strong as Mione’s!”

Draco started laughing, and Harry grabbed him, pulling him close and peppering him with mint flavoured kisses until he was too busy being kissed to laugh.

“You’re terrible,” Harry said with utter exasperation.

“As if you aren’t awful, you said so yourself,” Draco said with a grin, tracing his fingers over Harry’s back.

Harry shivered and wriggled loose, “We should go to bed.”

Draco rolled his eyes, “I suppose, if you’re done hogging the bathroom.”

Harry disappeared inside and grabbed his wand and discarded clothing, “All done.”

Draco finished up his nightly routine, washing his face and applying his skin care potions. When he came into his bedroom, Harry had shoved the blankets back and was laying in bed, reading the book that persisted in being the bane of Draco’s existence.

Draco sighed.

Harry jumped, looking over the top of the book with a guilty expression, “Sorry. There’s not much else to do.”

“That’s my mother’s idea of sex education,” Draco gestured to the book, “When I turned thirteen, she got me the first three books, and when she found out I was gay, I got that for christmas.”

“It’s more than I’ve ever gotten,” Harry said.

“You can borrow it if you like,” Draco said, “I’ve read it.”

“You already finished it?” Harry said.

Draco raised an eyebrow, “It’s written for children. Challenging literature it is not.” He waved at Harry irritably, “Move over, this is my side.”

“How is one side any different than the other?”

“It’s the one I’m used to, and it’s my bed, now move,” Draco said

Harry shifted over, flumping back into the pillow, “What are the first three books about?”

“Volume one is about puberty for little wizards, two is about puberty for little witches, and three is about sex,” Draco said, sitting on the edge of the bed and kicked off his slippers.

“Why’d she buy you the second one?”

“Why wouldn’t she?” Draco said, “Half our classmates are women. It’s useful to understand what they’re going through, and to provide chocolate when their periods sync up,” Draco said, laying back and trying not to feel too self-conscious.

“They do what now?” Harry asked faintly.

Draco laughed, “When women live together they start having their periods at the same time. How many years we’ve been in school, and you didn’t know that? You ought to borrow the other books as well.”

“I should,” Harry admitted. He closed the book and handed it to Draco to put back on the bedside table. “I like the photo.”

Draco set the book with the other two he had been reading and looked at Tulip’s picture set beside the lamp, “We had just gotten back from break.”

“Who took it?” Harry asked.

“Tulip. Mother’s personal elf,” Draco said, “She’s obsessed with photography. She must use all her spending money on paper and developing liquid.”

Harry rolled on his side towards Draco, “Spending money? Is she a free elf?”

Draco sighed, “No. And before you say, we did offer it to them if they wanted it. Most elves don’t.”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Harry said, frowning, “That can’t be right, they must be scared or-”

“They weren’t,” Draco said flatly.

Harry sat up, looking ready to get in a strop.“How do you know for sure? After how Dobby was treated! It would be- I can’t imagine…”

Draco took a deep breath, “You don’t have all the information, Potter. Let me explain.”

Harry opened his mouth then stopped. He pushed his glasses up and rubbed his eyes with one hand, “…Yeah, alright.”

“In elven hundred and four, a group of wizards and the huddle leaders, house elves call their leaders huddles-”

“Is this a history lecture-?”

“Shut up. They met to broker an official agreement between all the elves and wizardkind of the isles.” Draco said, “You see, house elves need magic places to live and raise families, they used to live in the old forests, which were rich in magic but men cut most of them down and too few remained. So they began living in the homes of wizards, especially older, magic rich homes.”

“Really? Why don’t I- Why doesn’t Hermione know this?” Harry said.

“Have you ever heard that history is written by the victors? I found most of this information in old private family libraries,” Draco said.

Harry lay back down, “But you don’t- didn’t-? care about house elves?”

“It was the task I was given by my father, primarily to keep me too busy to be used as a tool while still doing something necessary for-” Draco hesitated, not liking the first words that came to mind, like  _us_ , “- for everything,” he finished lamely.

“Necessary?”

Draco nodded, “Bellatrix killed one of the elves in a fit of anger and the next day they were all gone.”

“Because you broke the agreement, the one made in eleven-o-something,” Harry said.

“Right,” Draco said, “It said that the elves could stay in a wizarding home in exchange for labour, to be decided by the wizard in question; and yes it was written that vague in the agreement and was immediately taken advantage of.

“If a wizard wanted an elf to leave, to unbind them from his home; he would give them clothes, a bundle to see them on the road. An elf would serve a household in good stead so long as they were safe, but any home that threatened an elf’s life and livelihood unbinds them all.”

“Then where did Tulip come from? And the surly one that opened the door?” Harry asked.

Draco smiled briefly, “Kipper is the surly one. He was the only one to come back after the war. Tulip and Suppy, who does our cooking, came from different houses.

“Traditionally, to get more elves, you speak to the head of the house and just buy them. But with everything that happened… I made sure to find elves that both the huddle and the head of the house would be willing to part with and that the elf themselves would want to come,” Draco fought back a yawn, reaching down and pulling the blanket and comforter up to his chin.

“So now you know them,” Harry said.

Draco blinked, “What?”

“You said before that you didn’t know Dobby,” Harry said.

“Oh, yes. I suppose I did,” Draco said.

“Would you consider telling Hermione all of this? It’s really important to her.”

Draco sighed, “There’s a good chance it would only make things worse.”

Harry’s brow furrowed, “How? Wizards haven’t been honouring the agreement. They’re supposed to provide somewhere safe for house elves to raise their families.”

“But you’re very kind,” Draco said pointedly. “Like I said, the agreement is extremely vague. They don’t have to keep house elves safe or comfortable, they just can’t kill them.”

“That’s horrible.”

“And the wizengamot is full of hateful old fucks who are good at manipulating details to suit themselves,” Draco said, “They won’t be kind.”

“Will you give it to her anyway?”

Draco shrugged, “Alright. I suppose if anyone can bully the wizengamot into behaving it would be Granger. I would quite like to see that.”

Harry shifted closer to the centre of the bed, and Draco felt Harry’s knee bump his.

Draco snorted.

“Don’t laugh,” Harry grumbled.

“Laughing at you is one of the finest pleasures in my life,” Draco said.

Harry shook his head.  He slowly pulled off his glasses, rubbing his cheek into the pillow, “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

Draco took Harry’s glasses and set them on the nightstand. He used his wand to turn off the lights in the room, leaving on two lights in the sitting room, so a faint glow filtered into the bedroom.

“I have trouble with my temper.”

“I noticed,” Draco said. He could just make out Harry’s outline, his hair sticking up, his eyes catching just enough light that Draco thought he could still see the green. “It’s fine.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Harry said softly.

“It’s fine because you didn’t lose your temper. I told you to listen, and you did. I mean…” Draco bit his bottom lip absently, glad it was too dark for Harry to see him flush, “I can’t make my nerves just disappear. All I can do is try to fix it a little at a time. So as long as you’re doing that,  _then_  it’s fine.”

Harry tipped his face deeper into his pillow, clearing his throat, “Yeah?”

Draco rolled onto his side, hooking a leg over Harry’s and letting their feet tangle together, “It very well ought to be because I haven’t a fucking clue otherwise.”

Harry huffed a faint laugh and was quiet. Draco was starting to think he’d fallen asleep when Harry asked, “Why don’t you ask me about things?”

Draco blinked.

“Draco?” Harry said quietly.

“What? What do you mean?” Draco asked.

“Well… I ask you things all the time, and you haven’t really asked me anything, other than what my favourite season is.” Harry said.

“I ask you things.”

“Not important things,” Harry said, “Do you not want to?”

Draco frowned, “Of course I want to.”

“Then why don’t you?” Harry asked.

“Because you’re… you’re a very private person,” Draco said carefully.

“….I- yeah but, you’re rather an exception now,” Harry said.

“An  _exception_ , am I? I’m honoured Mr Potter,” Draco teased, mostly to hide how appallingly happy he felt.

Harry groaned, “You know what I mean.”

“Oh, do I now?” Draco said.

“ _Yes_ ,” Harry said, “Ask me whatever you like.”

“Very well.” Draco thought for a second then asked, “Then will you show me where you grew up?”

Draco could hear Harry’s startled intake of breath.

“I…” Harry broke off. “…It’s been sold, I think.”

“You could show me around the memory of it in a pensive,” Draco said.

“It’s nothing special.”

“Will you show me anyway?” Draco asked.

Harry nodded, his words faint, “I’ll- yeah. We can do that.”

“Thank you,” Draco said.

Silence stretched out between them.

Harry shifted under the blankets and took Draco’s hand, “Night, Draco.”

“Goodnight, Harry,” Draco said softly.


	24. Chapter 24

Draco woke with a start, eyes wide, holding himself perfectly still. He could see a figure in the darkness and held his breathe. Finally, his eyes focused and he could see that it was Harry, sitting up, hand pressed over his mouth to try and muffle his erratic breathing.

Draco breathed out, forcing himself to relax. He slowly pushed himself up with a sigh, turning on the lamp and using his wand to conjure a glass and fill it with water.

“I warned you,” Harry said weakly.

Draco gave Harry the water, “Do you want your glasses?”

Harry shook his head. He slowly drained the glass with shaking hands. “…I’ll be fine.”

“More water?”

Harry shook his head, and Draco vanished the glass.

“You can go back to sleep,” Harry said.

Draco yawned, “How does it take usually? To get back to sleep?”

“Not long,” Harry said.

Draco snorted, “Liar.”

“Sometimes it’s not long.”

“So your dream-” Draco saw Harry stiffen, “-did it make sense?”

Harry was silent and breathed out all at once in relief that turned to laughter sounding a heartbeat away from a sob, “No! It was so stupid!”

“Merlin, I hate that,” Draco said and leaned against Harry, laying his head on his shoulder.

Harry’s laughter faded, and he sighed, his shoulders relaxing, “Thanks.”

“I just did what I would want,” Draco said, “Do you want any potions. Dreamless sleep?”

“No,” Harry said. He paused, forcing a light tone, “Emergencies only.”

“Pansy nearly beat the shite out of me the last time she thought I took dreamless sleep.”

“I got sat down at the table for a serious talk with Molly Weasley and Hermione,” Harry said.

“I’ll take the beating,” Draco said.

Harry grinned, “Yeah, I think I’d rather that as well.”

Draco fought down another yawn.

“You really can go back to sleep,” Harry said.

“Hmm,” Draco said sleepily, “There’s something I use, did I ever tell you about my ferns?”

“Your ferns?”

“I’ve been trying to make a new calming potion from them, but I haven’t figured out how to totally neutralise the sedative effects,” Draco said.

“What?”

“It makes you sleepy,” Draco said, “I take it after I have a nightmare.”

Harry looked up at the ceiling and sighed, “I’ll try it.”

Draco dragged himself upright and opened the bedside drawer, taking out the small vial of blue tinted liquid, swirling it and pulling a small amount of liquid into the dropper. “Ready? It’ll hit you quickly.”

Harry nodded after a moment’s hesitation.

Draco usually took three drops for a deep sleep, but he only gave Harry two in case it affected him more strongly. He put the bottle away, and when he turned back Harry was already fighting to keep his eyes open.

Harry lay down with a huge yawn. Draco echoed his yawn and pulled the blankets back up. Harry’s eyes were nearly closed when Draco settled back into his pillow.

“Should this be strange? Us here together?” Harry asked, hardly more than a murmur, “I feel like I should be more nervous.”

“Probably,” Draco said, “You never had much sense.”

“But I trust you. Ron and Mione say not to, but I do.”

“No sense at all,” Draco said.

A smile crept on Harry’s face as he finally let his eyes close, “You whine a lot, but you never do anything I don’t want you to.”

“I could,” Draco said, feeling offended on principle.

Harry’s smile grew and then started to relax.

“Harry?” Draco asked quietly and received no response as Harry’s breathing deepened into sleep. Draco wet his lips and leaned forward, stealing a kiss. “See? Not to be trusted at all,” Draco muttered. He frowned at himself, resisting the urge to brush his thumb over Harry’s lips like he could wipe the kiss away.

Draco turned off the lamp and shrugged deeper under the plush comforter. “You’re worth waiting for, moron.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


Draco slowly blinked awake, grimacing at the light filtering around the curtains. He was on his back, one arm flung out over the open side of the bed, and something warm was pressed tight to his side.

Draco eased the comforter back and found, that despite the massive size of the bed, Harry had ended up half curled up against Draco’s side. He had his knees drawn up towards his chest and his head snugly pressed into Draco’s armpit, one arm flung over Draco’s chest.

Draco slowly carded his fingers through Harry’s hair, studying his face. He felt like he could have easily mistaken Harry for fifteen at that moment without the lines of tension and tightness in Harry’s jaw he always seemed to have when he was awake.

Harry’s breathing shifted, his eyelids fluttered, and then he held very still.

Draco kept playing with his hair with a growing grin, “Good morning, Harry.”

Harry slowly opened his eyes, “Don’t laugh.”

Draco didn’t, barely. “It’s your reaction that’s funny, if you must know.”

Harry shifted and slowly unfolded himself, stretching like a cat.

“How did you sleep?” Draco asked.

“Good,” Harry said with a yawn.

“How would you rate the quality of your sleep compared to other times you were awakened by a nightmare?”

Harry squinted at him, “Are you-? Is this a survey?”

“I need all the data I can get,” Draco said, “On a scale of ten. How do you feel?”

Harry continued to squint, and Draco was afraid that the expression was meant to be a glare. And seeing as he wouldn’t get any answers if he laughed in Harry’s face, he handed Harry his glasses and then went back to brushing his fingers through Harry’s hair.

Harry sighed into the touch, “Fine, I guess… eight or nine?”

“And how do you normally feel after a bad night?” Draco asked.

“Dunno, five?” Harry said.

“And would you recommend it to-?”

Harry smacked his arm, “Enough, arsehole.”

Draco grinned, “Thank you for your participation. Would you like your reward?”

“Maybe,” Harry said suspiciously, “Depends.”

Draco pressed a kiss to Harry’s forehead.

“I was thinking it would be a bit more than that,” Harry said.

Draco raised an eyebrow, “You never completed the survey.”

“Stuff your stupid survey, I want a proper kiss,” Harry said.

“I worked hard on that survey,” Draco said affecting a pout.

“You did not,” Harry countered. He pushed himself up on one elbow to kiss Draco.

Draco lurched backwards, putting a hand over his mouth, “Cheater!”

Harry grabbed his wrist, jerking him close with a grin. Draco shoved him back with his free hand, fighting not to laugh as they tangled and pushed and pulled at one another, the comforter falling off the bed, the pillows ending up as impromptu weapons lost to the floor, both of them laughing until they were breathless and Harry finally managed to grab both of Draco’s wrists, pin him to the bed and kiss him.

Harry leaned back to say something and stopped. And the look in his eye made Draco’s breath catch.

Draco lifted the leg between Harry’s, brushing his inner thigh.

“Harry shivered, “I- I don’t…”

“Just kiss me. Kiss me again and again, and we can stop whenever you like,” Draco said.

Harry leaned down and hesitantly kissed him. The kiss deepened, and Draco slid his knee higher, his neck straining upwards like Harry was Icarus’ sun. Harry grip loosened just enough to thread their fingers together, pressing their hands back into the sheets.

“Draco,” Harry gasped against his lips, finally,  _finally_  pressing his body down against Draco’s. He rolled his hips against Draco’s thigh, hesitant and gasping.

The thin fabric between them let Draco feel almost everything and not nearly enough. He bit his lip, forcing himself to slow, to meet Harry at his pace, to move with him. A whimper escaped Draco but before he could be embarrassed Harry kissed him again.

Draco pulled a hand free, touching Harry’s cheek, sliding back into hair and down, possessively cupping the nape of his neck to keep him close as he kissed along Harry’s jaw and neck. He came all too soon with Harry’s name caught in his moan.

Draco held him tight as Harry’s movements grew more frantic. He pressed his face into the curve of Draco’s neck as he came, his groan stifled by the fabric.

They lay collapsed together. Draco pushed Harry’s thin teeshirt up, running his hands up Harry’s back, tracing the line of his spine with his fingertips.

Harry said, “That was…amazing.”

“Mhm,” Draco said.

“We should get cleaned up,” Harry looked around for his wand.

Draco grumbled and held on tighter.

“Come on-”

“No,” Draco muttered.

Harry pulled free anyway but at least had the decency to stay close.

Harry pointed to the far side of the bed, “There it is, can you grab my wand?”

Draco said, “I’d love to. Preferably without our pants in the way.”

“ _Draco_.”

Draco threw an arm out, patting around in the mess of sheets aimlessly until he found Harry’s wand and passed it over.

Harry cast a cleaning spell over them, “…How does my wand feel?”

“ Hard.”

Harry rolled his eyes, “You’re impossible.”

There was a snap of apparition as Kipper appeared at the side of the bed.

Draco felt Harry jump.

“Good Morning, Young Master, will you and your… esteemed guest be wanting breakfast?” Kipper asked flatly.

“Yes, you can send it to the sitting room. Thank you, Kipper,” Draco said.

Kipper bowed stiffly and apparated away.

“Does he normally do that? Just show up?” Harry asked faintly.

“Yes. It’s how he’s always done things,” Draco said. “Kipper hates all the other changes I’ve made, so I let him be a little shit about things like this.” He sat up and stretched.

“What if we were doing- you know. Would he-”

“No, of course not. That wouldn't be proper,” Draco said crawling to the edge of the bed.

Harry caught his arm, “About my wand, because yours feels friendly, so I was wondering what mine felt like to you.”

Draco sighed.

“It’s not bad is it?” Harry asked.

“I’m thinking,” Draco said. “It was complicated…” he smoothed his hair back absently. “Hopeful, I suppose.”

“Hopeful,” Harry repeated softly.

  
  


* * *

  
  


They argued over the bathroom which Draco won because it was his bathroom and to which Harry swore to never let him go first again once he came out. Draco indignantly replied that he didn’t take  _that_  long and swept away to his dressing room to get changed. He put on grey slacks, pulling a green jumper the colour of Harry’s eye over a simple white button up.

“This is ridiculous,” Harry said as he joined Draco in the dressing room.

Draco glanced around as he pulled his sleeves straight. The walls were filled with racks and shelves of clothes, all charmed to hold more than they first showed.

“Wonderful you mean,” Draco said.

“Nah,” Harry said.

Draco sniffed, “You look like you get your clothes out of a dumpster.”

“You look like putting a stick up your arse is an essential part of every outfit.” Harry stared at him, almost holding his breath to see if he had gone too far.

Draco rolled his eyes, “It’s called good posture, you neanderthal.”

“Prat,” Harry grinned.

“Anyway,” Draco gestured to the neatly folded pile of clothes on the one of the chairs in the centre of the room, “Kipper cleaned your jeans and jumper, you’re welcome to borrow anything else you might need, unless you plan on continuing to wear the same pants and tee shirt you’ve been wearing since yesterday.”

Harry pulled up the collar of his tee shirt and sniffed it experimentally.

Draco raised an eyebrow.

“It’s alright,” Harry said.

Draco went over to the drawers pulling out one of the few pairs of boxers he owned and throwing them at Harry who snapped them out of the air without thinking.

Harry frowned at his hand, “Silk? Really?”

“How about you try them before you start whingeing like a child,” Draco said sorting through a stack of undershirts and picking one out, throwing it after the boxers.

Harry caught it with a sigh and held it out in front of himself. He went to pull his tee shirt off and stopped, “Are you going to leave?”

“Why?” Draco asked dropping onto the chair and leaning over the back to watch.

“Because I’m hungry,” Harry said.

Draco didn’t move.

“Because me changing is probably going to end up being more than just getting dressed-”

“Sounds lovely to me,” Draco said.

“Yes but I’m hungry and I- yeah. Just bugger off, okay?” Harry said impatiently.

Draco stood up. He gave Harry his most long-suffering expression as he slowly walked to the door.

Harry ignored him.

As soon as the door clicked closed behind Draco, Harry called, “Can I ask you something?”

“Any reason why you waited to ask until I left the room?”

“Erm…” Harry hesitated, and Draco could hear the faint rustle of clothing, “I can’t get myself to ask otherwise?”

Draco leaned against the door frame, “Go on then.”

“You said before you’d had casual relationships, so I was wondering how far you’d-  or what you’d done before?”

Draco frowned, “As I remember it I said, nothing formal.”

“Same difference, isn’t it?”

“Then said I didn’t want to talk about it,” Draco added.

“It was bad then?” Harry asked.

Draco squeezed the bridge of his nose, “What gave you that idea?” he asked sarcastically.

“Who was it?”

“I’m not falling for this again,” Draco muttered to himself. “You first,” he called through the door.

“Wha-?”

“You heard me,” Draco said, “If you want to know, you have to tell me your entire dating history first.”

“I went on one date with Cho, she was my first kiss,” Harry said reluctantly, “Ginny and I made out, and groped a bit …you’re the first person I’ve ever done anything more with.” There was a long pause, “I was kind of busy.” Harry pulled the door open and frowned at him, “Draco?”

“I was your first,” Draco repeated faintly.

“Yeah?”

“You have excellent taste,” Draco said, his voice wavering only slightly. He turned away as his face started to flush.

Harry caught his arm and pulled him back, “You’re really okay with it? I know it’s weird for a grown bloke to have no experience.”

“Okay?” Draco said, his face getting unbearably hot, “ _Okay_? I am- I-” he floundered after his words in the face of Harry’s anxious expression. He leaned down and kissed Harry, tugging on the front of his worn blue jumper  “It’s more than  _okay_. I want  _all_  your firsts. I want every single one of them.”

“Oh,” Harry relaxed and smiled faintly, “That’s good then.”

Draco kissed him again “Shall we have breakfast then?” Draco asked nodding towards the table.

Harry kept hold of his arm, “What about you then? I told you everything.”

Draco sighed and looked down at his feet. “Handjobs. A few blow jobs, given not received. He was ‘straight’,” he said sourly. “It ended when… when I wanted more emotionally.”

“Who-?”

“Who isn't important,” Draco said pulling Harry to the table, “Come on, you said you were hungry.”


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hullo♡ I've been going through this story from the beginning to edit it a bit and realised I accidentally left out a part from the original story. So if you want, chapter 9 has a new part, the very first section.  
> Thank you for reading and just being lovely in general.

  
  


Breakfast was about enough to feed ten people and included every single vaguely breakfast sort of food that Suppy knew how to make. Draco did his best not to react, but Harry glanced at him curiously as they sat down.

“No this isn’t normal,” Draco said, “Suppy just gets excited about feeding new people.”

“All of your house elves are a bit strange.”

“House elves are strange in general,” Draco said,

Harry tore off the corner of a croissant and popped it into his mouth, “S’good.”

Draco sat beside him and grabbed a chocolate croissant. “Try and refrain from talking with your mouth full when we eat with Mother.”

“We’re eating with your mum?” Harry asked.

Draco winced, “I might’ve forgotten to mention, she wants us to have dinner with her tonight.”

Harry swallowed hard and put on a game face, “Any tips?”

“Don’t eat with your hands?”

Harry gave him a look, “Like what fork to use.”

“The one next to your plate I would imagine,” Draco said and shook his head, “It’s not a formal dinner party, you dope. There’s probably only going to be three or four courses at most.”

“Not fancy at all then,” Harry said sarcastically.

Draco resisted chucking the rest of his croissant at Harry’s head, but only because he wanted to eat it, “Hogwarts has anywhere from five to eight courses at every meal, the only difference is that it comes all at once.”

“I suppose. It’s still pretty different though, on account of it being dinner with your mum,” Harry said.

“She doesn’t bite,” Draco said.

“She’s very intense though.”

Draco conceded reluctantly, “There are times…”

“Draco!” Pansy shouted from out in the hall, fury carried in her every footfall, “I can’t believe you let me sleep in this dress! It’s chiffon!” She flung the door open, stomping inside, a badly crumpled dress in one hand, “If you think I’m going to trust one of your elves to clean-” She went entirely still at the sight of Harry.

Draco said, “I was a bit drunk at the time and didn’t-”

“What’s he doing here?” Pansy asked.

Draco hesitated, “Harry came last night-”

“No,” Pansy cut him off.

“-to see me. What-?”

“Nope. I’m not- No.  _No_.” Pansy held up a hand, “I can’t- Not now.” She turned on her heel and marched out of the room.

Harry broke the silence, “What was that about?”

Draco blinked, “Specifically at the moment, I haven’t a clue. She doesn’t particularly like you so it might just be your face.”

Harry shoved him half-heartedly, “You’re the one who ruined her dress.”

“ It isn’t  _ruined_. She’s just being dramatic,” Draco said.

Harry started putting together a proper plate of food, “Is it about her saying I should be handed over to Voldemort-? because I don’t care about that. And I’ve never talked to the press about it, don’t talk to them at all if I can help it.”

Draco knew exactly why she didn’t like Harry and had no interest what-so-ever in bringing it up. He just shrugged.

Harry handed Draco the plate, “Here. I still want to see your old room, and it’s past noon as it is.”

Draco took a bite of quiche, even as his appetite vanished.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Draco led the way through the hall and down the stairs, back into the main hall and across the ringing marble tiles to the large dark doors sealed with wards. He took a deep breath as he drew his wand, changing the ward signature to allow them through and opening the doors with another charm so he wouldn’t have to touch them.

“ Your old room is on the other side of the house?” Harry asked.

Draco barely glanced back to see the furrow on Harry’s brow, “Yes.” He didn’t let himself hesitate and only shuddered slightly as they went through the wards.

The change wasn’t immediately noticeable, the shadows were a little deeper, and there was a chill in the air that made the hair stand up on his arms. Draco knew that over time the shadows seemed to fill every corner and the chill couldn’t be warmed by the hottest fire or charm.

Their footfalls were muffled by a faded carpet runner, its colours gone to shades of grey. The portraits on the wall clung with cobwebs, their occupants missing. Motes of dust floated on narrow slits of light between the closed heavy brocade curtains, kicked up into swirling patterns as they passed.

Harry drew closer to Draco without seeming to realise it, nearly matching him shoulder to shoulder as they entered the family wing.

Draco stopped at a small door halfway down, easing the knob open with a faint click and stepping inside. He quickly shut the door as soon as Harry was inside.

There was a distinct lack of dust in the room that indicated that Kipper was still cleaning it regularly, but all the cleanliness in the world could hide the stale stagnate feeling about the place.

“It’s-” Harry looked around, “It’s not what I was expecting, I guess.”

“What were you expecting then?”

Harry touched one of the four posters of Draco’s old single bed, “Well…. bigger for a start. This one’s half- even less than your room now,” he said.

Draco looked over packed bookshelves of stories and adventures, read until dog-eared and soft, a chest full of old stuffed toys and dolls, figures of quidditch players and magical animals displayed on shelves. Posters of his favourite quidditch teams adorned the walls and a small desk set in front of the window, the wood stained with ink and the scratched doodles of a child bored of their lessons. The room was small but full of everything a boy could ever want, provided he whined enough.

“A boy should have a boy’s room,” Draco said, “A man earns his place.”

Harry paused and gave Draco a quizzical look.

“It’s a Malfoy tradition,” Draco said as he charmed the curtains open and filled the room with light.

Harry wandered around looking at all the different toys and knick-knacks. He touched one of the many figures displayed on one of the many shelves and grinned as it started moving.

Draco sat on the edge of the bed.

“You were spoiled rotten,” Harry said.

“Did you really expect anything different?” Draco asked, pressing a quelling hand on his knee to try and stop it from nervously bouncing.

“I guess not,” Harry said, tapping a little quidditch figure and sending it flying in a circle around him. “Did your parents ever say no? To anything?”

“I think they just avoided taking me to shops whenever possible,” Draco said. “If I asked from something completely ridiculous Mother would buy something reasonably similar to try and placate me. It never worked. I threw an embarrassing number of tantrums.”

Harry had managed to get the entire team of quidditch figurines going, all looping around him like he was a massive goal hoop. “Explains a lot,” he said grinning, his eyes following the tiny seeker as it chased a golden snitch the size of a pea, “You threw a few tantrums at school, with what you tried to do to Buckbeak.”

Draco slid off the bed, kneeling in front of the small bookcase beside the bed running his fingers along the spines. He pulled out the Young Wizard Wallace and the Mysterious Magical Malady and flipped towards the end where he had marked his favourite part. It was where Wallace discovered that the spirit of his great-aunt Lucinda in the basement was the was source of the mysterious curse, and had to banish her with a powerful spell he’d found in a locked box in the attic. Of course, the locked away spell ended up being a problem all on its own that had to be solved in the next book.

He set the book on the bed, “That wasn’t a tantrum.”

“What?”

Draco took out a few of his other old favourite books, along with the first three volumes of A Young Wizards Guide to Growing Up. “It wasn’t a tantrum. I knew what I was doing. I wanted to be fawned over, and it was the most attention my father-” He broke off and pointedly flipped through the fourth volume of Amelia Enchanted. “…Now, I know that he was just using the hippogriff incident to gain power and discredit the headmaster.” He shook his head, “I got quite the lecture about how I should have known better than to put myself in harm’s way to begin with.”

Draco stared blankly at the books in his hands, brushing his thumb over a faded cover, the gold leaf embossing nearly gone.

Harry plucked the quidditch player out of the air one by one and replaced them on the shelf, “It seems like it’s been a while since anyone’s been here… You must have moved just before school started.”

“Right after the war ended,” Draco said quietly. He cleared his throat, “…This is the first time I’ve been back here.”

Harry looked around the room with a faint frown, “Why?”

Draco stood and went over to the door, pausing his hand on the handle and gesturing for Harry to come over before he opened it. He leaned back against the door frame and pointed to the end of the hall. “The room at the end-”

“Yeah?” Harry said, stepping out into the hallway to see.

“That’s the master bedroom, it was my parent’s room. Riddle took it when he moved in,” Draco said his voice quiet and flat. “My parents moved to the rooms adjacent,” he pointed to the first door on the right after the door at the end of the hall. “Bellatrix took the rooms opposite, then there was Dolohov, Avery, Pettigrew,” he went down the line, each door he pointed at drawing closer to his own.

Harry stared down the dark hallway.

“Most of them had homes of their own, but they would stay here during meetings,” Draco said. He pointed at one more door, behind Harry, right across the hall from Draco’s room, “That was Greyback’s room.”

Harry turned.

Draco told Harry’s back, “As Father lost favour there was more and more talk of punishment. Any chance he got Greyback would tell Riddle that he should be allowed to bite me and then lock my parents and I in a room on the full moon so either I would kill them, or they would be forced to kill me. I think he was considering it near the end.”

Harry slowly turned back to Draco, his jaw clenched so tight Draco could see the muscles jumping under his skin.

“The moment Riddle took the master bedroom and moved all his people in here, in the family wing, we- I should have realised we had no-”

“Draco,” Harry said.

Draco blinked rapidly, anxiously clearing his throat, “I know it’s nothing compared to what you went through.” He nearly laughed, “You’re probably the only person in the world I could say that to.”

Harry took Draco’s hands in his, “You’re shaking.”

“I’m fine,” Draco said, trying to sound unaffected and failing quite badly, “After all there’s nothing here any more.”

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco and held him tightly until his shaking eased. He cupped Draco’s face and brushed his hair back, “Let’s get out of here, alright?”

Draco nodded. He picked up his pile of books, and impulsively took the seeker toy as well, shrinking them and putting them in his pocket.

Harry closed the door behind them, taking Draco’s hand and leading the way back.

  
  



	26. Chapter 26

“Well that was awful,” Draco grumbled as the doors closed behind them. He cast a cleaning charm on himself and still couldn’t resist the urge to wipe his hands off on the bottom on his jumper.

“Sorr-”

“Oh don’t,” Draco said. He took Harry’s hand and pulled him across the hall, “Come on. I want to show you my favourite places.”

He took Harry to his study first, seeing as it was the least impressive and one always had to build up to a good finale.

His study had two entire walls of bookshelves on the right and left that he hadn’t quite managed to fill yet. The wall across from the door was made up entirely of windows looking out onto the rose gardens. He had a brewing station set up on the back wall. His desk was pushed up to the windows, unusually neat because he had packed up most of his notes to go back to school.

“This is my study,” Draco said, “I spent near half the summer in here.”

“It’s great,”Harry said and looked out the windows.

“It’s beautiful when the roses are in bloom.”

Harry nodded, glancing over the bookshelves and desk, lingering at his potion’s table and a sheaf of hastily scrawled notes that Draco had yet to organise. “This is where you brew everything?”

“Yes. There’s a brewing lab in the undercroft, but well, it’s creepy as fuck down there,” Draco said and smiled when he managed to get a laugh out of Harry.

He took Harry to the greenhouse next, “These are the potion beds,” he gestured to the long line of raised beds against the walls, “They hadn’t been used for… well, ages. I spent weeks getting them in working order.”

“You never seemed that keen about herbology before,” Harry said.

“It’s not about the plants, it’s about ensuring a certain level of quality in my brewing ingredients,” Draco said, pulling Harry to the tables, “Most of these are samples from my great uncle’s expeditions.” He stopped in front of the fletus ferns, “These ferns produce the sap that put you back to sleep last night.”

“It has a sedative effect,” Harry said, “I remember.”

“It’s extremely potent. That vial of blue liquid is a tenth of a single droplet dissolved in distilled spirits purified by moonlight,” Draco said, “It not only puts you to sleep, with fewer side effects, it also makes you feel calmer which lasts about half a day. If I can just figure out how to isolate the calming effect, I could make a new calming potion, a better one, one that doesn’t make you feel numb and disoriented. I think I’ve- I…”

“You’ve?” Harry asked, with a smile that made Draco feel entirely off balance.

Draco had to drag his eyes away from Harry before he would even trust himself to speak, “I… have some ideas on it,” he managed.

“What sort of ideas?” Harry asked.

Draco frowned at him, “You don’t care.”

“I do,” Harry said.

“You’ve never cared about potions,” Draco shot back, “You probably care about divination more than potions.”

“Yeah, well I would care if our potions professors taught like you do,” Harry said.

Draco did his best to maintain his glare even as his face heated up but at the very least Harry looked just as embarrassed.

“Well, it’s true.” Harry nervously pushed his hand through his hair, “Erm… so, this- is this what you’re going to do after school?”

“After-” Draco repeated haltingly.

“Yeah, like work, inventing potions and research and stuff?” Harry asked.

“I- I hadn’t really thought about it.” Draco shook his head, “I just- I have to stay here until my mother’s house arrest is finished. I couldn’t leave her alone in this place. I hadn’t really thought beyond that.”

“But, if you figure out that calming potion it could really help people. I mean, even a better sleeping potion would be amazing.” Harry said.

Draco blinked, “No one would buy it.”

“I’m pretty sure a lot of people would be interested in those sorts of potions,” Harry said with a mixture of confusion and amusement.

“If I could keep my name out of it, I suppose it might work,” Draco said with a thoughtful frown, “And of course, I don’t care about profits so I can sell them fairly cheap…”

The look on Harry’s face said he hadn’t remembered that there was a great deal Draco couldn’t just  _do_. Not any more.

“ Oh. I forgot about…all of that,” Harry said.

“It will take years anyway, maybe even longer than that, perhaps public opinion will soften by then,” Draco said, channeling an unbecoming level of optimism.

Harry quirked a lopsided smile, “It’s just- you remind me of Hermione, when you talk about something you really care about, it seems like you can do anything you put your mind to.”

“Perhaps I can,” Draco said lifting his chin slightly. He walked down the line of tables, stopping beside a planter full of small cacti, their long spines twitching in his direction. “I might just change the world.”

“You’re at real risk of being a good person if you do that,” Harry teased.

“I’m only doing it out of spite, so it doesn’t count,” Draco said.

Harry laughed. He walked up the aisle after Draco and Draco kept just a few steps ahead, walking backwards with a grin.

“I bet Neville would love this place,” Harry said.

“He did. Longbottom visited before christmas. A bit sad, him visiting me before my bo-” the word caught in his throat and Draco quickly rephrased, “-before you managed it.”

“Neville came  _here_?  _The_  Neville Longbottom?” Harry asked.

Draco raised an eyebrow, “As opposed to any other Neville Longbottom?”

Harry grinned, “Tons of them around you know.”

Draco rolled his eyes, fighting down a smile.

Draco stopped at the door to the conservatory, giving Harry just enough time to catch up to him and loop his arms around Draco’s neck. Draco stumbled back, his back pressing against the cool glass, condensation soaking into his jumper. He glared at Harry who was far too busy grinning endearingly.

Draco sighed and slipped his hands around Harry’s waist. He resolutely did not smile, which seemed to amuse Harry, and allowed Harry to kiss him. And then he quite forgot to be annoyed at all.

  
  


* * *

  
  


“There’s one more place I want to go,” Draco said, opening the door at his back and stepping through it into the conservatory. It was warm and light, the scent of flowers and soil perfuming the air, “This is the conservatory. It’s always been my favourite place in the entire house.”

Harry looked around as they slipped between all the plants to the sitting area, “Did we… go around the outside of the house, in the cold, without jackets, to the greenhouse when we could have just come in this way?”

“And spoil the impact? I think not,” Draco said, dropping down onto the couch.

Harry stared at him flatly.

“Come sit,” Draco patted the small couch, “We woke a little late for lunch, but I thought we could have tea to tide us over until dinner.”

“You’re impossible,” Harry shook his head as he joined Draco.

Draco ignored him and called, “Kipper!”

Kipper appeared a few moments later and bowed, “Tea, Young Master?”

“Yes. With some light finger foods,” Draco said.

Kipper bowed and tromped off.

“So why is this your favourite place in the whole house, young master?” Harry asked.

Draco narrowed his eyes. As far as nicknames went, and he had quite a lot of bad ones, it wasn’t the worst but- “Only Kipper calls me that and I’m fairly certain he only does it to be a little shit.”

A bitchy little grin grew on Harry’s face.

Draco rolled his eyes.

Harry asked again, “So what’s special about this place?”

“It’s lovely?” Draco said.

“It is nice,” Harry said, craning his neck up to look through the glass panels stretching up the wall and halfway across the ceiling, showing the sharp, winter blue sky. "Is that all though?"

“…My mother spent a lot of time here when I was young,” Draco said, “I have a lot of fond memories of this place.”

Harry said, “You never talk about him. Is it because of me?”

“Him?”

“Your father,” Harry said, “Just because I don’t like him doesn’t mean you can’t talk about him.”

Draco pulled his feet up on the couch, turning sideways so he could reach the hanging planter behind them and traced the petals of a small white flower, “Then you’ll be pleased to know that I’m not sure how I feel about him anymore.”

“He’s family,” Harry said and then winced at his own words.

Draco said, “He always said that family was the most important thing in the world... and then he almost got us all killed.”

“It seemed like you really cared about him when you were younger,” Harry said, resting an arm over the back of the couch

“I idolised him. I wanted to grow up to be just like him… but I was never good enough,” Draco said.

There was a rattle of china as tea appeared on the table and Draco turned back around, pouring two cups of tea, adding the milk, and twice as much sugar to his own cup. He took a sip and sighed, looking over the small plates with their small offerings.

“How?” Harry asked, pulling Draco out of his thoughts. “You're right after Hermione in scores most of the time and an amazing seeker. You were Slytherin’s little prince.”

Draco smiled bitterly, “But I was supposed to be top of class and win every game and be the most popular in the entire school. I couldn’t even manage one thing right. Everything was so much easier before school, when there was no one for him to compare me to.”

“It’s better than nothing,” Harry said quietly. He plucked at a loose thread on the couch eventually looking up and meeting Draco’s gaze, “I feel like I’ve been prying a lot today and maybe I shouldn’t have.”

“You know I like the attention,” Draco said, “Especially from you.”

Harry flushed.

Draco smiled. He pulled a handful of shrunken books from his pocket and carefully sorted through them with his fingertip, “Anyway. I probably still know more about you than you know about me.”

"What?" Harry’s brow furrowed.

“From the papers, and from watching you for six years… although most of that information was gathered with the intent to use it against you,” Draco said.

“Oh really? I hadn’t noticed,” Harry said sarcastically. He had a sip of tea and tried a few of the little bite sized sandwiches.

Draco plucked out a book, resizing it and putting the rest away, “Have you read The Amazing Enchanted Amelia?”

Harry shook his head, “I haven’t had the chance to read much wizarding fiction other than Beedle the Bard.”

“It was one of my favourites growing up,” Draco said. He popped a smoked salmon sandwich into his mouth, absent-mindedly brushing his fingers off on his trousers as he settled back on the couch and opened the book to the first page. “You’ll like this one, I’m certain. Amelia is impossibly impulsive, nosy and reckless.”

“There’s another word for all that, I think it’s called being brave,” Harry said.

“You would call it that. That’s why I said you’d like it,” Draco cleared his throat meaningfully before Harry could interrupt him and started reading, “Amelia was an ordinary sort of girl, with an ordinary sort of house at the end of an ordinary street. She had fairly ordinary parents and went on all sorts of rather ordinary outings, except for one in particular. This outing had the effect of making Amelia’s ordinary life quite extraordinary….”  

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Amelia reached her hand out, as she willed and wished and wanted with all her heart. If being enchanted was good for anything it had to help her now when things were most dire.” Draco flipped to the next page. He kicked one leg idly, slung over the arm of the small couch, his head resting on Harry’s lap as Harry carded his fingers through Draco’s hair. “But Caroline kept falling further and further from Amelia’s reach-”

Harry’s hand froze.

“-until the darkness below had nearly swallowed her whole. Without thinking, Amelia jumped after her.”

Draco heard Harry hold his breath and grinned up at him over the top of the book.

“Wait- What happens? Don’t stop you arse,” Harry said irritably.

Draco continued, “The ravine was quite a bit deeper and quite a bit darker that Amelia had ever suspected, deep enough and dark enough she could almost forget there was a bottom. But there was Caroline to save and no time at all to be scared.

“She furrowed her brow and tried again to make her magic work. She tried and tried as the darkness spoke of sharp stone bottoms and her eyes pricked with tears. Just as all hope was about to be lost, her hand began to glow, and below them threads of blue light began crisscrossing the ravine, filling the gap like a bramble thicket. The threads snapped as Amelia fell through them, her fall slowing a little bit with each one until she stopped altogether, just a few inches above the floor.”

Harry let out a breath of relief, his fingers moving through Draco’s hair once more.

“Amelia quickly stood and tore through the threads, already dissolving, and called out, ‘Caroline, are you there?! Caroline, are you okay?!’ Before she could call out again, Caroline burst through the last of the magic and they hugged each other with all their strength. ‘You’ve saved us, Amelia!’ Caroline said, ‘but how shall we ever get out of here?’” Draco paused, turning the page and taking a moment to reach over for one of the last cucumber sandwiches.

“Just so you know, even I wouldn’t jump into a bottomless ravine,” Harry said.

Draco perfunctorily licked a smear of cream cheese off his finger, “Bollocks.”

“I wouldn’t!”

“If it were Granger or Weasley and there was no time for anything else, you very much would,” Draco said.

Harry frowned at him but didn’t actually disagree.

Draco smirked. “Wizards still manifest wild magic in cases of mortal peril even into old age. So it would be fine. Probably.”

“So Amelia’s just a normal witch then?” Harry asked.

“Not quite, the enchantment or curse or whatever caused by the amulet lets her use her wild magic almost as easily as casting with a wand. Near the end of the series she’s so adept with it, it’s practically wandless casting,” Draco lifted the book, “That’s the appeal, isn’t it? Being able to use magic before you’re allowed or even supposed to be able to do so.”

“And better than the adults most of the time,” Harry said.

Draco nodded, “Not that that takes much. Adults in these sorts of books tend to be dim as flobber worms.”

“Adults in the real world aren’t much better,” Harry said ruefully. “Keep going? I want to know how they get out.”

Draco scanned the page to find his place but before he could start reading again the door opened, and Pansy entered.

Pansy in a black pencil skirt, black nails and lipstick, sharp black stiletto heels, and a blood red silk shirt.

Draco sat up.

“You’re mother’s looking for you,” Pansy said. Her gaze never left Harry.

Draco blinked and stood, setting the book aside, “Since when do you have stilettos?” he asked a bit stupidly.

“Draco-?” Harry stood up behind him, sounding uncertain.

Draco went over to Pansy, “What are you-?”

“Your mother,” Pansy said, a stubborn set to her jaw that Draco rarely saw but knew meant she was serious, “Potter and I will just have a little chat while you’re gone.”

Draco didn’t move until she looked at him. “Just a chat?” he asked quietly.

“I promise,” Pansy said.

Draco sighed and glanced back at Harry, “I’ll be right back.”

Draco stepped outside and eased the door shut. He knew Pansy would wait until she heard him leave, and would yell at him if he didn’t, which luckily gave him time. He quickly slipped his shoes off and charmed them to walk without him, the marble tiles on the floor ringing like a bell and Draco following a step behind on stockinged feet. He stopped at the next room, casting a silencing spell on the door before easing it open and going inside. He nearly ran to the adjoining wall, casting a small listening spell and pressing his ear to the cool plaster.

“-gone,” Pansy said.

“What’s this about?” Harry asked warily.

“I have something to say to you, so I’d appreciate it if you would shut up and listen,” Pansy said.

“If this is-”

“I  _will_  silence you,” Pansy cut him off with a snap.

Harry grumbled something under his breath.

Pansy took a deep breath, “In sixth year you almost killed Draco-”

“I didn’t know-”

“ _Silencio_!” Pansy yelled.

Draco winced, Pansy's charmwork was brutal when she was angry.

Pansy took a few deep breaths, “In sixth year you almost killed Draco, and I _don’t care_  what you thought you were doing. You did it, and you pretend like it never happened.”

Draco was immensely glad he was not involved in this.

There was the tap-tap of heels on the tiles.

“Draco’s too much like his mother, he’s never going to make you apologise,” Pansy said, “He might forgive you so I won’t, I won’t forgive you for him, I’ll hate you forever if I have to.”

Pansy paused and sniffed indignantly, “So apologise to him. If you do I’ll consider tolerating you.”

Draco heard her cross the room and the door handle clicked but didn’t open.

“And  _never_  hurt him again,” Pansy said coldly.

The door opened and closed.

Draco stood up and ran back to the door, slowing down and straightening his jumper before stepping outside.

Pansy turned at the sound of Draco stepping quietly into the hallway and rolled her eyes, “You heard everything?” She held up on hand as she walked over to him, “No, never mind, of course you did.”

Draco shrugged one shoulder, “Did you take the silencing charm off?”

“What do you think?” Pansy asked.

“No.”

“Correct.”

Draco hesitated, “You didn’t have to do that-”

“Yes, I did,” Pansy said.

“It’s okay, really,” Draco protested.

Pansy shook her head, her expression caught between exasperation and disbelief, “You and your mother, you’d forgive the world of the people you love.”

Draco flushed, “Love? I don’t-”

Pansy pressed her hand against his chest, shoving his without much force and leaving it there, “Shut up Draco,” she said quietly, “Listen, you have to be careful, or you’ll only get hurt.”

“I won’t,” Draco said stubbornly.

Pansy pushed him again.

“ _I won’t_.”

Pansy shook her head again and said, “I need you to promise me something.”

“ What?” Draco asked.

“Promise me,” Pansy insisted, “It’s important.”

Draco studied her expression and conceded reluctantly, “…Okay.”

“Promise me you won’t apologise before he does,” Pansy said.

Draco looked down at the small hand pressed over his heart and at Pansy’s earnest expression. He could feel touches of magic in the request, nothing formal, but meaningful none-the-less.  

Draco sighed and put his hand over Pansy’s, “I promise.”

“Good,” Pansy said, and a beat later pulled her hand fee. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, then. Will Potter be coming back to school with us?”

“I think so,” Draco said.

Pansy leaned down and pulled her stilettos off one at a time and sighed, “I’ll gird my lions then.”

Draco frowned at her, “You’ll what?”

Pansy just lifted her heels up in a half-hearted wave as she padded past him in her stocking feet.

Draco watched her for a beat, then went back to the conservatory.

  
  



	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter deals with some of Harry's abusive childhood and might be upsetting for some. Please read with care♡

When Draco got back to the sitting area, Harry was looking worryingly pensive, elbows resting on his knees and staring into the middle distance. He glanced over at Draco when he dropped onto the couch beside him and tried a smile, giving up fairly quickly.

“I’ll just take it that your discussion with Pansy went well then, shall I?” Draco said sarcastically.

Harry managed a slightly better smile, “Brilliant,” he said, not at all convincingly.

Draco snorted, “Managed to get the silencing charm off then? I’m mildly impressed. I didn’t know you had experience with wordless casting.”

“A bit,” Harry said, “And I was rather angry, that helps things along.”

“It also makes spells randomly explode,” Draco said.

“I’ve always been rather lucky that way.”

Draco rolled his eyes.

Harry took a deep breath, “So I was thinking, if you had a pensieve, I could show you where I grew up.”

“Right now?”

“Do we not have enough time?” Harry asked.

Draco fumbled out his pocket watch with a frown, “A little over an hour.”

“That’d be plenty,” Harry said standing up.

Draco stared at him, “We don’t have to-”

“I mean, a place this big probably has a few pensieves in it.”

Draco hesitated, squeezing his hands together.

“Draco?”

“I know it was bad,” Draco said.

“What?” Harry said faintly.

“Wherever you grew up,” Draco said, “I know it was bad.”

“How- No.” Harry shook his head, “Hermione and Ron and the Weasley’s sort of know but no one else does.  _No one_.”

“ You never went home for the holidays, you never talked about any gifts or letters from them, you- Harry you told me your favourite season is fall because it meant you got to come back to school,” Draco said, his voice sounding too reedy in his own ears, “Someone tried to kill you every merlin-damned year, including me-”

“You didn’t try to kill me,” Harry interrupted.

“I could have crucioed you to death.”

Harry shook his head, “Crucio doesn’t kill-”

“It can,” Draco grimly.

“It doesn’t-”

“I’ve  _seen_  it.”

Harry said. “I’ve never heard of crucio doing anything more than nerve damage and- and making people go insane.”

“If they have a weak heart-”

“I don’t have a weak heart,” Harry said.

“So?”

“So, it wouldn’t have killed me,” Harry said, adding almost as an afterthought, “and you’re shite at being evil.”

Draco glared at him.

“Plus, sixth year, I’d say being attacked by inferi was a lot more dangerous,” Harry said.

“Inferi? What- How-” Draco shook his head, “I don’t think I want to know.”

“Why’d you ask to see where I grew up if you knew?” Harry asked.

Draco flinched. He crossed his arms over his chest, “Because you asked to see my room.”

“Not because you thought I wouldn’t?” Harry pressed with a worrying level of insight.

“Of course not!”

“Do you have a pensive?” Harry asked.

Draco stared at Harry, and he stubbornly stared right back.

Draco slowly stood, “You’re certain about this?”

“Positive,” Harry said.

“Kipper!” Draco called.

Kipper appeared with a nearly silent apparition and bowed, “Yes, Young Master?”

“Please bring an empty pensive to my sitting room,” Draco said.

“Right away, Young Master,” Kipper bowed and apparated away.

“What happened to your shoes?” Harry asked.

“Nothing,” Draco muttered.

“Okay? Your room, then?” Harry said.

Draco nodded.

“I think I remember the way,” Harry said, heading for the door.

Draco reluctantly followed.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Draco didn’t like memories of places. It was the stillness of them, like muggle photos but without even the silent staring people to ease at least some of the uncomfortable emptiness. It was far too much like being trapped in a nightmare for his liking.

Harry led the way up the tidy walk with its small front garden of neatly trimmed bushes and flowers, all leading to a rather unremarkable little house. The door swung open silently, and Harry stepped inside, holding it open for Draco to pass.

There was a small kitchen, a dining room and a ground floor bathroom. In the sitting room,  Draco recognised one of the tele-visions Pansy had discribed to him. The house was all very tidy, but something about it all felt off. He looked around the rest of the ground floor, trying to pinpoint what it was, and at first he thought it might be the abundance of lacy frills and doilies. But it was more than that, and the feeling of unease was only growing.

“My room was upstairs,” Harry said, breaking through the silence.

Draco slowly made his way towards the stairs and stopped in front of a wall of photographs filled with people that might as well have been caricatures for their extreme proportions. There was a thin sharp, and unpleasant woman with blond hair and she was always standing with a rather large man whose overflowing features were embedded with all his past glowers and scowls so even when he smiled he looked angry. Most of the photos were of a blobby young boy who seemed to take after his father in all the worst ways. He reminded Draco of the worst of Vincent and Gregory all wrapped up into one greasy human being.

But… there were no pictures of Harry. Not even a small one, not even on the edges of other photos or in the background. That was what was so wrong with this place. There was no sign of Harry anywhere. It could’ve been a stranger’s house.

Draco shivered and did his very best not to think about it. He had promised himself he wasn’t going to fall apart here.

“Draco? You said we only have an hour,” Harry said.

Draco followed Harry up the stairs to the second floor and proceeded to stick his head into every room. The largest bedroom was likely the master, the indents on the king-sized mattress indicating that the large man took up two third of it while his wife slept right on the edge. Draco wondered how she didn’t fall off every night. “How are they related to you again?” Draco asked.

“My aunt was my mother sister,” Harry said flatly.

“All muggles?” Draco asked as he went to the next room, also quite large and overflowing with stuff. There were shelves of things and a desk with a television-like thing and another television on the stand with all sort of other plastic muggle boxes and smaller plastic that seemed to go into the other plastic. There was hardly even room to breathe in the crowded room. “This was your cousin’s room?” Draco hazarded.

“Yeah,” Harry said.

“Is all of this muggle plastic important?” Draco asked.

Harry sighed and scrubbed his hands through his hair, “…it’s all just electronics.”

“I highly doubt they do the same thing, they all look different so they can’t all have the same name, Harry,” Draco said.

“Erm…”

“Except those two,” Draco pointed to the two screens, “Why does the fat lump need two tele-visions?”

Harry looked surprised, “Since when do you know anything about tvs?”

Draco smirk proudly, “I learn quickly. Tv is a shortening of tele-vision?”

Harry nodded, “Yeah. As for the rest, um,” he pointed to the grey screen, “That’s a computer, not a tv, like it doesn’t have shows on it, you can use it to play games and write papers and make spreadsheets, I think. Dudley only played games though. This one,” he pointed to a long box with two mesh squares with a ton of buttons in between, “That’s a stereo, it plays music, and these are cassettes, which have music on them, uh, kinda like records, wizards have records.”

Draco rolled his eyes, “Very observant of you.”

“In my defence, the magic bit of wizards is a lot more interesting,” Harry said.

“What are those boxes, the ones that are attached to the tv by the black cords?” Draco asked.

“Game systems,” Harry said, “Those cartridges play different games, and you use the controllers to move your character around.”

“Why does he have so many?” Draco asked, “Surely you only need one.”

“There are lots of different companies, and they have their own system and make different games, and Dudley hated to be left out of things, so he had to have them all.”

“Are they fun?” Draco asked.

Harry shrugged, “They looked fun. I wasn’t allowed to play with them.”

Draco nodded, that added up with everything else he had seen so far.

“He got even more stuff the last few years I was here, but this is the last I remember it looking like,” Harry added, leading the way to the next room.

There was an appalling small bathroom, which apparently everyone had to _share_ , followed by a smallish sized guest room, which left only one door unopened, in the back corner of the hall.

“This was mine,” Harry said stepping inside.

There was a bed and a dresser. No books, no posters, no toys, no clutter of any kind. Unlike the rest of the house, this was the only room that had a distinctly shabby second hand feel with scuffed paint and scores in the wood. It reminded Draco of a guest room, except the guest room had been nicer and bigger and decorated. It didn’t seem like a place someone had lived, even for a day.

Draco wrapped his arms around himself.

“I didn’t really get on with my relatives,” Harry said, “So yeah, it wasn’t great growing up here.”

“It’s like a prison cell,” Draco said.

“It was only during the summer and usually not the whole summer,” Harry said with a shrug.

Cold dread pooled in Draco’s stomach, “…And where did you stay before school?”

“What?”

“It was only during the summer, you said. Where did you stay before then?” Draco said.

Harry half smiled, carefully avoiding his gaze, “I didn’t mean- This is my room.”

“No. It’s not.” Draco hazarded, watching Harry’s expression closely. He didn’t miss the flicker of something- Draco didn’t know what to call it, but it made his chest squeeze so painfully it hurt to breathe. “Show me.”

Harry seemed to curl in on himself, shoulders bowing, back arching as he stuffed his hands into his pockets until he looked a picture of his eleven-year old self. 

“Please?” Draco asked softly.

Harry hardly blinked, turning on his heel and leaving the room. Draco followed silently behind as they walk down the hall, past every door and down the stairs. Harry swung round the bannister and took a few steps, leaning down and unlatching a small door on the side of the panelled stairs.

Draco reached his side as the door opened and saw a bare bulb hanging over a small thin mattress, the sheets going thin and grey from age, the blanket tatty and worn. Small broken toys sat on the exposed wood framework, faded crayon doodles were barely visible on the dark unfinished wood.

Draco stared for what felt like years before everything he was seeing finally sank in and filled his chest like molten lead. He jerked out of the memory with a gasp and backed away. Turning to hide the tears streaming down his cheeks.

Harry stood more slowly. He rubbed his face and nearly knocked his glasses off.

“How long?” Draco managed.

Harry sighed, “Til I was eleven.”

“Didn’t they know who you were?” Draco asked his voice shaking. He pressed his eyes closed to try and stop crying, he had so desperately not wanted to cry, “Didn’t they know how important you were?”

Harry let out a brittle angry bark of a laugh, “They knew my parents were magic and they hated everything to do with magic, me especially. Look. It doesn’t matter. It’s in- It’s…”

Draco took a deep breath and opened his eyes, finding Harry staring at him with all the composure of a trout. He glared at Harry, even as he sniffed to keep his nose from running, tears dripping off his chin.

“It really doesn’t matter,” Harry said, “Don’t cry.”

“I’ll cry if I like!” Draco snapped, squeezing out a few more tears out of spite.

Harry stepped closer, his hands reaching out rather uselessly in front of himself, not managing to cross the last few inches to touch Draco, “It’s just- doesn’t- Draco. You don’t need to-” he tripped over the words, “-to cry for me. I’m not- I’m fine.”

“Of course I’m going to cry for the person I lo- I-” a sob ripped through Draco. - _love._ Pansy had been right. He had tried so hard not to.

Harry edged closer, frantically searching Draco’s face and managing nothing else like a great useless lump. “What do I do?” he asked weakly, “Tell me what to do.”

Draco took Harry’s hands and pressed them over his wet flushed cheeks, “Wipe my tears away. Tell me it will be okay. Tell me you’ll be here. Tell me- Tell me anything. Anything.”

Harry brushed his thumbs over Draco’s cheeks, and kissed his forehead and then lightly, kissed his tear soaked eyelashes and the corner of his mouth before pulling Draco into a desperately tight hug.

Draco pressed his face into Harry’s shoulder and clutched at his awful jumper. He smelled like something sweet and earthy and he was warm and strong. Draco took a few deep breaths, his tears slowly ebbing as he calmed down.

The volatile mix of sadness and despair was slowly replaced with embarrassment at falling apart like a child in front of the last person on the planet he ever wanted to be an utter disaster in front of ever again.

“Thank you,” Harry said quietly.

“For what? Getting snot on your jumper?” Draco grumbled quietly.

Harry laughed and squeezed him. He was quiet for a while, Draco could almost hear him thinking.  “…I don’t know…” Harry said haltingly, “I’ve never really told anyone but… I think I’m glad I told you.”

Draco bumped his forehead on Harry’s shoulder, “There is no way in all the nine hells that I’m a better choice than Weasley or Granger.”

“I’ve always thought they’d try to murder the Dursleys if I told them.”

Draco snorted, “They probably would, the morons.”

“Hey,” Harry chastised.

“It’s the rushing in that’s stupid,” Draco said. A good plan requires time, and murder is far too quick. They needed to suffer for, oh, say, sixteen or seventeen years or so.

Harry released Draco from the wonderful hug and stepped back to study Draco like he could tell what he was thinking.

Draco turned his head away, “Merlin, don’t look at me. I’m probably a blotchy mess.”

Harry bit his bottom lip trying not to laugh.

Draco spared him a glare, which did make Harry laugh, and hurried to the bathroom. The reflection that greeted him made him groan. His cheeks were blotched with pink, his eyes and nose were red, and his hair was a disaster. He splashed cold water on his face and pushed damp fingers through his hair to smooth out the worst of it.

“It’s not that bad. It’s just funny because you’re so annoyed,” Harry said, leaning on the door frame behind Draco.

Draco shook his head at Harry’s refection, “I have the ugliest crying face anyone has ever had the misfortune of having.”

“Dunno, you’ve seen Neville cry haven’t you?” Harry said with a grin.

Draco rolled his eyes, “When we were kids, yes. Now? He’d probably look dignified and brave, and all that bollocks.”

Harry snorted with amusement.

“Are you any good at glamours?” Draco asked.

“I mean I can do them but…” Harry said.

“Never mind.” Draco said and drew his wand, “I can hide the worst of it.”

“You don’t have to, hide it I mean.”

Draco rolled his eyes, but before he could answer, Kipper appeared beside Harry in the doorway making them both jump.

“Dinner will be served in ten minutes,” Kipper said.

“Tell Mother we might be late,” Draco said.

Kipper bowed and headed for the door.

Draco spun away from the sink, “And don’t tell her I’ve been crying!”

Kipper paused, raising his eyebrows just high enough that Draco could see his dark, mournful eyes, “Of course not, Young Master, I will always keep your confidences. It is my duty.”

“Y-yes,” Draco said, feeling guilty, “Of course. I’m sorry for doubting you.”

“You should doubt, elves are not to be trusted,” Kipper said.

“Dobby was trustworthy. I’m sure a lot of elves are trustworthy.” Harry said.

Kipper turned his gaze of Harry, his brows twitching together and shook his head at Harry. Kipper told Draco, “Elves leave, elves forget their loyalty and leave. Don’t trust an elf.”

Draco hesitated and then asked something that had been bothering him since Kipper had returned, “Kipper? Were you the huddle leader of the manor croft? Did you give all of that up when you came back?”

Kipper clasped his hands together, squeezing them tightly, “It is Kipper’s duty to be here. Kipper never should have left.”

“Yes. You should. It was too dangerous here,” Draco said, “And I’m sorry.”

“The Young Master has nothing to be sorry for!” Kipper said, sound alarmed.

“I’m sorry you’ve been separated from your family, Kipper. Do want to go back to them? I could free you if-”

“Kipper does not want leaving!” Kipper shouted, sounding panicky.

“Okay. Alright. I won’t then,” Draco said quickly, thinking as fast as he could, “What about visiting them? You have evenings off, I give you leave to visit them. I- tell Tulip and Suppy they can visit their old crofts as well. I should have thought of it before.”

Kipper wrung his hands, and Draco was certain he was going to refuse like had had all the other things Draco had arranged but instead, he just said in a very small voice, “The Young Master is kind,” bowed and left.

Draco leaned back against the sink and pressed his hands over his eyes before turning back to the mirror, and doing his best to craft a glamour that would make him look like less of a mess. He heard Harry walk closer and slip his arms around Draco’s waist.

“We don’t have to go to dinner, do we?” Harry asked, “I mean you- you look… like you could use a break.”

“It’s all Mother asked, and it’s that last proper meal we can have together before I go back to Hogwarts,” Draco said. He set his wand down and leaned back into Harry. “…I could tell her you aren’t feeling well, and have something sent up for you if you'd rather not go.”

“ No. It’s not that…” Harry said. “I’ll go.”


	28. Chapter 28

Kipper led Draco and Harry to a dining room that they hadn’t used since, forever, as far as Draco could remember. It was the largest dining room in the finished east wing, but Draco only remembered it as a place to be wandered in and out of when he was avoiding his lessons. The white plaster walls had been painted a soft mossy green, and the marble tiles were muted by a large rug Draco had never seen before. Some of the old paintings had even been hung back up around the walls, paintings of landscapes, fields and forests moved by wind and traversed by animals in silence.

Mother had only painted and finished a few of the renovated rooms in her drive to smother all the dark magic in the house, and Draco wondered why she had gone to the trouble for such a pointless place. Draco knew she loved throwing dinner parties, but there weren’t going to be any more dinner parties.

Mother stood up from the table and came to greet them, “Good evening, Draco, Mr Potter,” she kissed the air beside Harry’s cheek before hugging Draco, “I’m pleased you weren’t held up too long.”

“I’m sorry we kept you waiting,” Draco said. He looked his mother over, with her lilac silk dress robes and curled hair, “You look lovely.”

Mother smiled, “I wanted tonight to be special. Come, let’s sit,” she waved them to the end of the table where three places had been laid, looking small and out of place on the long grand table.

Mother sat at the head of the table with an empty seat on either side.

Draco sat across from Harry as dinner appeared, their soup bowls filling in front of them as the rest of the dishes appeared in the space between, a roast in the centre of it all. It was quite a bit more than three or four courses, but after the morning’s breakfast, Draco wasn’t surprised.

Mother sighed, “Suppy is being overexcitable again.”

“She’ll calm down once Harry’s gone,” Draco said.

Harry was looking stiff as a board with nerves, so Draco kicked him.

Harry jumped and glared at him.

Mother cleared her throat before Harry could retaliate. Draco grinned smugly as Mother asked Harry, “How is school going for you, Mr Potter?”

“Err, It’s fine. I still feel like I’m catching up with everyone,” Harry said.

Draco picked up his soup spoon, nudging Harry under the table to copy him, and said, “The real work of revisions starts when we get back.”

“Have you decided which subjects you’re going to focus on?” Mother asked, glancing at both of them.

“Potions, of course,” Draco said, “Runes and Arithmancy are also very strong subjects for me. I’ve recently decided I’d like O’s in Herbology and History as well.”

“What about Charms and Transfiguration?” Mother asked, her brow creasing faintly in concern.

Draco fished around his soup for more barley, “I think I’d be fine having an A or an E in those subjects. They’re useful but not as important to me.”

“I see,” Mother said and asked Harry, “What about you, Mr Potter?”

Harry nearly dropped his spoon, “Could- ah, you call me Harry? Mr Potter is a bit…”

“Harry then.”

Harry took a deep breath, “Well, I don’t know if I’ll try out for the auror’s after school but I figured I’d do my best to get O’s in all the required subjects just in case.”

“That’s very sensible,” Mother said. She tapped her soup bowl with her wand, sending it back to the kitchen and tapped the plate beneath it to fill it with the next course. “How has school been for the returning Slytherin class?”

Draco protested, “I already told you-”

Mother held up her hand, “I know what you told me, Draco. I’d like to know how it looks from a more… outside perspective.”

Harry hesitated and looked at Draco.

Draco shrugged, feeling helpless. He wished he could avoid the conversation altogether, his mother didn’t need to be worrying about these things.

Harry stabbed a piece of roasted broccoli, “Uh, there’s some name calling, but McGonagall was pretty stern about there being no bullying. So they’re just ignored mostly.”

“I see,” Mother said.

“I told you it was fine. Everything’s fine,” Draco said.

“I’m going to worry, Draco. I’m afraid that’s just part of being a mother,” Mother said and took a sip of wine. When she sat her glass down the sound seemed too loud. They ate, and the silence lingered, Harry too nervous to speak, and Draco was too worried to do anything other than repeatedly tell himself that everything would be fine. And Mother, Mother seemed to be deep with thought, fidgeting with her glass, a furrow between her brows.

It seemed like years before she spoke again, “There’s something I wish to say to you, Harry,” Mother picked up her wine and Draco could see the liquid within trembling from her hand, “I wanted… to apologise for my involvement in…”

Harry froze.

“-in what happened at the ministry in your fifth year. Bella told me children wouldn’t be involved, that-that they just needed you to touch a prophecy, nothing more…” Mother pressed her lips together, biting her bottom lip, “I promised myself I wouldn’t be involved after that. I wanted to stay neutral… foolish,” she said softly and took a sip of wine.

Harry looked like he wanted to crawl under the table and Draco would have loved to join him; unfortunately, they weren’t four years old.

“Mother-” Draco tried, “-perhaps this isn’t the time-”

“This is important, Draco,” Mother said firmly.

“It could be important at an entirely different time say, in six months,” Draco said.

Mother gave him a warning look, and Draco settled back into a sulk. She went on, “I wish it could have been different, I wish everything could have been different.”

Harry was looking mildly ill and had gone from eating his roast to slowly trying to cover it over with mashed potatoes.

Draco was fairly certain that kicking Harry again would not be the right solution. So he eased his shoe off instead and blindly tried to find Harry’s foot under the table, pressing his toe on the top of an ugly squishy trainer. Harry jumped slightly, looking up at Draco from his mess of a plate. Draco slid his foot up Harry’s calf a bit until he couldn’t reach much further, the table being too wide and formal. Besides which, Draco was fairly certain he knew Harry well enough now, to know that even if he could slide his foot up Harry’s inseam, it would not be welcome in their current situation. Not that Draco was particularly interested in dying of shame if his mother were to catch him doing that sort of thing.

Mother straightened in her chair, firmly setting her wine down, “I’m deeply sorry for any and all actions I took against you that caused you suffering in anyway, Harry, and while I don’t expect you to forgive me I dearly hope you will not hold any ill will towards Draco for what I have done.”

Draco felt himself start to flush, “He wouldn’t do that, Mother he’s-”

“It’s fine, I really- I’m not going to er-” Harry said at the same time, their words stumbling together into an incompressible mess.

Mother held up a hand, and they both went quiet. She said, “I never want to be in the way of my son’s happiness in any way ever again. He deserves to be happy.”

Draco slumped down in his chair, properly blushing and trying not to look at Harry who also looked completely out of sorts. He could reach further with his foot though, so Draco shifted his foot higher, squeezing his toes around a rather knobbly knee. Draco had always suspected Harry had knobbly knees, he resolved to tease him about them later.

Harry blinked, and relaxed slightly, slipping a hand under the table to squeeze Draco’s foot. “It’s alright, really,” Harry said, “I’m not going to…” his voice faded under Mother’s gaze which was a shifting mix of confusion, irritation and concern.

Draco stared. He rarely saw such a blatant show of emotions on his mother’s face.

“Draco,” Mother said, turning to him, “does- sit up straight- does Hogwarts still not provide any classes in etiquette?”

“No I shan’t, and no they don’t,” Draco said.

The corner of Mother’s eye twitched, but her concern had won out, and she turned back to Harry, “Harry, I’m going to tell you this as you will need it with your fame and regular exposure to the press-”

Harry slid a little further down in his own chair, looking grim and resigned to an unwelcome fate.

“-there are several ways one can formally deal with an apology. On the most basic level, you either have to accept or decline the apology,” Mother cleared her throat, her tone shifting as she launched into her lesson, “So ‘I accept your apology’ or ‘I do not accept your apology’. Things are usually far more complicated than that so you might also add forgiveness such as ‘I accept your apology, but I don’t forgive you’,” she hesitated, “forgiveness and apologies don’t always go together, and you shouldn’t feel like they have to.”

Draco wanted to groan, he felt all of six years old again, with his mother giving him etiquette lessons. The worst part of it being that before those lessons, mother had been perfect and wonderful in every way, only to turn around and join the mass of horrid tutors always lecturing him and telling him to sit still and focus.

But Harry had relaxed somewhat and was tracing his fingers over Draco’s foot as he listened making Draco shiver.

Mother said, “An apology can be as complicated as a contract. As witches and wizards, anything that requires an apology quite often forms a debt and forgiving someone for the sake of politeness can free them of their obligation. Even small debts can be useful.”

Draco saw the expression on Harry’s face and wiggled his toes, “You don’t have to use them blackmail people like my father did, you can do good with them, sway a conservatives vote, get a committee to look at a proposal, that sort of thing.”

“Draco,” Mother said, “please don’t speak about your father in that way.”

Draco sighed and looked away.

Mother was quiet for a few seconds before continuing, “Sometimes you might be in company or public, and someone might apologise that you neither want to accept nor forgive. In such a case you might say something like, ‘thank you for your apology’ or ‘I appreciate your apology’. That way you both save face without giving ground. These are just the basics, of course, and not necessarily appropriate for more personal relationships.”

Draco nudged Harry, and when he looked up Draco nodded towards his mother with a  _go on then_.

Harry sat up, “Uh…” he took a deep breathe, “I accept your apology and…. and I forgive you, and thank you for apologising, you didn’t have to.”

“You are very kind,” Mother said and smiled. It was a bit forced, but she seemed lighter as well. She clapped her hands, “Let’s have something sweet, shall we?”

Dinner was cleared with a few taps of her wand and replaced with large trays of different tarts each small enough to be eaten in a few bites. Harry filled his plate with one of everything. Draco plucked a tart off the tray at random, breaking it in half over his plate and eating it with his hands, partly to annoy his mother and partly because he was tired and didn’t care.

Mother sighed, placing three tarts on her plate and taking up her knife and fork to cut them into bite-sized pieces, “I wish I’d talked with you sooner. I didn’t realise how incredibly lacking your education was in regards etiquette.”

Harry said, “I mean, it’s not really the sort of thing you need most of the time. Ministry balls maybe.”

Mother stared at him uncomprehendingly and went on, “Most people are not Harry Potter. Regardless of your feelings on the matter, you killed the dark lord, twice in fact, and saved the lives of many people in the process. You are going to receive public attention from all sides, both good and bad for the rest of your life.”

Harry grimaced.

“Knowing how to deal with the press, to placate and disseminate information, give interviews and press conferences,” Mother listed, looking more and more unsettled as she went on. “And if you’re serious about being with Draco, you need to be able to use the press to shield him as much as possible, or they will take the initiative to slander him.”

“I’m not really good at talking to reporters,” Harry floundered.

Mother’s pressed her hand over her mouth as she sat back, “I want Draco to be happy,” she said quietly, almost to herself, “but-” she fixed Harry with her gaze, “-Harry, please keep your relationship with Draco secret for now, at least until you’ve both graduated. It’s too dangerous at Hogwarts and Draco has no one to protect him.”

“I can protect him. He can protect himself,” Harry said.

“Don’t be naive,” Mother said, her tone surprisingly gentle, “You can’t be by his side all the time and, while Draco is more than competent, even he has to let down his guard, to turn his back, even if it’s just to sleep.”

Harry frowned, and squeezed Draco’s foot, “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

Draco shrugged because it was true.

Mother said, “I’ll owl you with more advice.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Harry protested.

“I can’t make you read it,” Mother went on as if Harry hadn’t spoken, “I hope you will consider what I write anyway. It might be of use to you.”

Harry opened his mouth to protest again and slowly wilted in the face of Mother’s expression, “…Thank you. That’s very kind.”

“You’re welcome,” Mother said primly, eating a small piece of tart, looking regal as a duchess.

Draco broke another tart in half, crumbs tumbling across his plate and catching in his jumper as he ate it.

Mother sighed and deliberately didn’t look at him. Which was fine because he knew she was deliberately not looking and because Harry was biting his lips to keep from laughing.

“How have your holidays been, Harry?” Mother asked.

Harry took a second to compose himself before answering, “Good. I stayed at the Weasley’s. They’ve always been very good to me.”

Mother nodded, “They are… remarkable people.”

Draco’s mouth fell open.

“Do pass on my best wishes to them, the next time you see them,” Mother said, as she carefully set her silverware down and stood, “I’m going to retire for the evening.”

Draco jumped to his feet, nearly tripping over his chair, to hug her before she left.

“I’ll see you off in the morning,” Mother said after a tight embrace, “Make sure you get to bed at a decent time.”

Draco nodded, “I’ll try. Good night.”

Mother smiled faintly before sweeping out the door with a final, “Good night,” to the both of them.

“Did my mother really say that?” Draco asked as soon as he couldn’t hear his mother’s footsteps, “A good word for the Weasley’s?”

“Pretty sure she did,” Harry said.

Draco pulled on his shoe and sat on the table, picking up another tart.

Harry helped himself to all the remaining treacle tarts, “Is your mum really going to owl me?”

“Likely entire essays,” Draco said.

“ _Really_?” Harry said.

Draco absently brushed crumbs off his fingers, “Mother is very keen on etiquette and the proper way of doing things. Her own upbringing was quite militant about it.”

Harry said, “The Blacks drove Sirius and Andromeda away, so that’s not too surprising.”

“And produced Bellatrix,” Draco said with a faint shudder, “I think Mother was the closest they ever got to what they wanted out of their children and ruined the rest.”

“Sirius and Andy weren’t ruined,” Harry said.

“According to their parent’s pureblood expectations they were.”

“I suppose,” Harry said, “They’re quite an improvement as far as I’m concerned.”

Draco helped himself to one last tart.

“Have you ever met Andromeda?” Harry asked.

Draco shook his head.

“She’s your aunt,” Harry said.

“There were social positions to consider,” Draco said, “That’s largely why pureblood families look down on the Weasley's you know, because they’ve never cared about social position. They  _like_  to interact with the rabble.”

Harry grinned faintly, “I quite like the rabble.”

“You are the rabble,” Draco said.

Harry snorted. He poked at a half-eaten tart on his plate, “...But would you meet with her now?” he asked.

“I’m entirely certain Andromeda Tonks wouldn’t want anything to do with me,” Draco said.

“You’re not giving her enough credit,” Harry said flicking the tart across his plate.

Draco rolled his eyes, “I’m giving her all the credit in the world. Mother and I are beneath her now and not worth the trouble.”

Harry stood up and walked around the table, stopping in front of Draco, “You’re the only family she has left. Family is worth the trouble.”

“Sometimes,” Draco said. He hooked his fingers in Harry’s belt loops and pulled him closer.

Harry let himself be pulled looking embarrassed, “Why are you so ridiculous?” he asked in exasperation.

“Why are you so shy?” Draco asked.

“I’m working on it.” Harry reached out, brushing his thumb against Draco’s cheek and then licking it, “Blackberry.”

Draco pulled his bottom lip through his teeth and wrapped his legs around the back of Harry’s thighs.

“You’re covered in crumbs,” Harry said.

“Shut up,” Draco said.

“Do you always make such a mess?” Harry asked.

Draco glared at him, “You know I don’t.”

Harry grinned faintly, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to Draco’s mouth, pulling back and resting his forehead against Draco’s with a long drawn out sigh.

Draco reached up, cupping Harry’s cheeks and feeling his jaw unclench under Draco’s fingertips. He slid his hands back through thick black hair, over Harry’s neck, the muscles taut, and down over shoulders tensed as tight as a knot of wood.

He knew what he liked to do when things became just too much, study, work, keep too busy to think, until the anxiety passed. He didn’t know what Harry would…

“Do you want to go flying?” Draco asked.

Harry leaned back, “It’s the middle of the night.”

“Half past seven,” Draco said.

“Dark and cold,” Harry said.

“We’re wizards, numpty.”

“Still-”

“Luna said you liked to fly,” Draco said, “If you wanted to.”

Harry took off his glasses and slowly wiped them off with the bottom of his jumper. When he put them back on, he nodded, “I do.”

  
  



	29. Chapter 29

Draco collected his warmest cloak and Harry’s jacket before leading Harry out to the broom shed on the edge of the main lawn. He gave Harry his nimbus and Harry immediately swung his leg over.

“Wait,” Draco said, taking out his wand and charming a small blue-white lumos on the end of the broomstick, “So we don’t run into one another.”

“Someone could see us,” Harry said.

Draco pulled up the hood on his cloak, “One, we’re too far from the village for them to see anything. Two, I don’t care. Stories of will-o-wisps had to come from somewhere.”

“Or aliens,” Harry said.

“Aliens? As in people from foreign lands?” Draco asked.

“From space,” Harry said, pointing up with a smirk little grin.

Draco looked up at the sky, mostly obscured by clouds, “You’re joking,” but when he looked back down, Harry had already taken off.

Draco grumbled under his breath as he looked back into the shed and grabbed a broom at random and charmed another light to the end. He flew up slowly, keeping his warm fluffy cloak pulled tightly around himself as he rose, not particularly interested in being cold. He watched the distant speck of Harry’s light as he flew low and fast, weaving around the outbuildings and shrubbery with an ease that Draco had always envied but would never admit.

Draco flew higher until he could see past the faint shadow of every rolling hill outlined by glimpses of moonlight through the clouds, to the dipping line of a black horizon that he knew if he followed would take him to the sea.

Harry rounded the manor like a shot and spiralled up and up until he flattened out and swirled around right in front of Draco. His hair had been swept back by the wind but fell back around his face as soon as he slowed, and Draco laughed as Harry tried to push it back out of his eyes.

“You wouldn’t think it was so funny if it was your hair,” Harry said.

Draco shuddered in horror at the thought.

Harry grinned, flying a bit closer, “Want to race?”

“With you on my fastest broom and me on one about five years older and ten times slower, yes that sounds fair,” Draco said.

“What can’t beat me?” Harry teased.

“That’s not what I said,” Draco said.

Harry peered at him, “Since when do you pass up a competition?”

“Since its bloody cold out and my cloak is not suited to racing and keeping me warm at the same time,” Draco said.

“Wanna trade?” Harry offered, plucking at his ugly puffy muggle jacket.

“No.” Draco said flatly.

Harry grinned, “I bet it would look great on you.”

“The only thing that would look good on is a bonfire,” Draco said.

Harry studied him thoughtfully, “You’re doing this for me, aren’t you. You don’t have to. You could go back inside. I won’t be long.”

“I ate far too many sweets. A bit of fresh air is just what I needed,” Draco said with a flush of embarrassment.

Harry nodded, “Yeah. I think…. I think I’m gonna to do another lap.”

“Go on then,” Draco waved him off.

He watched Harry do a wronski feint down towards the dark grounds, doing a corkscrew at the same time as if it weren’t dangerous enough to begin with. After a while, and realising Harry was going to do more than just one lap, Draco straightened his back and pried one hand off the broom to cast a warming charm of himself in addition to the ones embedded in the cloak.

Just as he thought he should have taken Harry up on his offer to go back inside, the barmy git flew back up to him.

Harry drifted to his side so they nearly bumped shoulders, “I just…” his voice came out just above a whisper, “I just want to be normal for once in my life.”

“You’re exceedingly normal,” Draco said. “You’re so average it makes me ill.”

Harry didn’t laugh. He shifted on his broom, looking into the distance rather than at Draco, “I just thought it would be easier.”

“What would be easier?” Draco asked.

“School, life…this,” Harry said.

Draco took a deep breath.

“I mean it’s not bad just- just-”

“How is this not easier than a war?” Draco asked.

“I’ve had a lot more experience with war,” Harry said.

Draco gripped the edge of his cloak.

Harry looked down at his hands.

They sat, breathing out puffs of misty white air.

“Hand,” Draco said, holding his hand out.

Harry’s brow furrowed in confusion as he let go of his broom and let Draco take his hand, holding it a bit too tightly as they drifted together.

“What?” Harry asked.

“What what?” Draco said, narrowing his eyes at Harry, “I’m quite obviously comforting you because your stupid average boring life is too exciting for you.”

Harry blinked at him.

“I mean, I understand, but we all have to figure out how to live. No one said would be fun,” Draco said. He added, feeling a bit annoyed, “It’s still massively better than a war. I was there. I remember. Normal life doesn’t give you nightmares like that.”

“You were there, huh?” Harry said, his tone waving between serious and not.

Draco frowned slightly to himself, “I might have missed a bit of the beginning.”

“Just a bit. I was eleven,” Harry said.

“The thing that got you all the points at the end of the year,” Draco said.

Harry nodded, “Professor Quirrell was possessed by Voldemort. …I killed him with my bare hands.”

Draco squeezed Harry’s hand so hard he winced, and Draco had to force himself to loosen his grip. “What?” he breathed.

“My mum’s love, it protected me from Voldemort when I was a baby so touching Quirrel hurt him. He was already weak from being possessed. Honestly, I don’t remember most of it, probably for the best really,” Harry said flatly. “And then Dumbledore gave us enough points to win the house cup. At the time that seemed brilliant. Now it feels a bit more like giving a treat to a dog for performing well, to make sure I wouldn’t run when the time came.”

Draco pulled Harry closer, shoulder to hip to knee, they shared a line of warmth between them. He didn’t know what to say, and anything he did say would probably be wrong, so he just stayed close and hoped it was enough.

Harry looked up, “It’s starting to snow.”

Draco could just barely make out the tiny flakes as they landed on his cloak. The snow was too light to do more than join the frost on the winter brown lawns and would melt as the sun drew up into the sky.

“You like the snow, right?” Harry said.

“I do,” Draco said. He pulled his hood off, “I had a dream like this once, you know. Although it was spring and at Hogwarts and we were playing a seekers game-”

“Then how was it like this at all?” Harry asked.

Draco squeezed Harry’s hand, “This part was the same. That’s the important part. It wouldn’t be hard to make the rest true. We could have a seeker’s game when we get back to school.”

“Still wouldn’t be spring,” Harry said.

“Enjoying being contrary just because you can?”

“Yes,” Harry said starting to smile.

Draco rolled his eyes, “Well we could have seekers games all the way to spring on account of it being fun, you dullard.”

“That would be brilliant,” Harry said.

“I know, I thought of it,” Draco said.

Harry snickered, “Prat.”

“Git,” Draco returned fondly. The snow was catching in Harry’s hair, delicately balancing on the dark strands like tiny pearls of starlight and Draco wasn’t sure he had ever seen something quite so beautiful before. “The snow in your hair looks like stars,” he murmured.

Harry’s breath hitched and he lifted their joined hands and kissing the back of Draco’s hand, “Let’s go back inside.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


Harry unzipped his jacket, shaking it off as he closed the door to Draco’s room behind them. He reached for the clasps of Draco’s cloak.

Draco grabbed Harry’s hands, “Wait- wait!” he said breathlessly.

Harry stumbled, his back hitting the door with a thump.

“Slow down,” Draco laughed.

Harry grinned, his hands finally managing to open the delicate metal clasp and let the cloak fall the to ground. He wound his fingers into the grey weave of Draco’s jumper to pull him close and kissed him hard, slipping his tongue into Draco’s mouth at his gasp.

Draco slid his hands down Harry’s chest, under the hem of his shirt and over his skin. He drew his fingers down Harry’s back, the muscles twitching under his touch, tracing the line of his hips, and to the trail of coarse hair starting at his navel and leading down and down.

Harry moaned, his hips bucking as Draco’s hand slid from skin to jeans, cupping his hard cock through the rough fabric.

“Is this okay?” Draco asked, barely a whisper, kissing Harry’s jaw.

Harry nodded frantically, “Yeah don’t stop.”

Draco squeezed, and Harry gasped, his hands starting to shake against Draco’s collarbone. Draco pulled the button of Harry’s jeans open and the zipper slid down as his hand pushed into Harry’s boxers, tracing the head and shaft with his fingertips before wrapped his hand around Harry’s cock giving a few slow, careful pulls, trying to memorize the moment, what he felt, how Harry gasped and moved against him.

Draco shoved Harry’s jeans down further so he could free his cock, ignoring Harry’s whimper of complaint when he let go. He brought his hand up to his mouth, dragging his tongue from palm to fingertips, tasting a hint of Harry’s skin and precome, before taking his cock in hand again and began moving, swiping his thumb over the head with every upstroke.

Draco was so hard it took all of the little willpower he had left not to rut against Harry’s leg just to find release. He wanted more. Draco took Harry’s hand, pulling it down and pressing it against the straining fabric of his trousers.

“Harry,” Draco urged breathlessly.

Draco kissed Harry, trying not to smile as Harry fumbled with Draco’s fly but he just grinned back even as he nervously pushed Draco’s pants down. Harry hesitated, Draco didn’t. He stepped closer, shuddering as Harry finally touched him. Draco stole an awkward kiss amongst their fumbling as they found something like a rhythm and began moving together. 

 Sweat began to bead on Draco’s forehead. Harry’s every breath sounded like a gasp but so did Draco’s. He watched Harry transfixed, and when their eyes met, they kissed and were unwilling to pull away.

There were a thousand thing Draco wanted to say, about how beautiful and wonderful Harry was, how good he felt and how good he made Draco feel and how much he cared about him and wanted him and wanted to stay with him and to just be enough to last forever and I love you, and Draco said nothing. He bit the words down on the tip of his tongue. Because they were too much and he never wanted to be too much if it meant losing this.

And Harry. Harry said Draco’s name like a whispered prayer.

Draco watched Harry’s forehead furrow, his eyelashes flutter closed, “I- I’m-” Harry arched into Draco with a groan, his breathing and hand stuttering as he came.

Harry collapsed back against the door, letting his eyes close as his breathing calmed.

Draco pushed Harry’s slack hand away, stroking himself roughly with his own, slick with Harry’s come.

“Wait, I-” Harry pulling Draco against him and pushing his hand away, “let me. Let me do it,” he said faintly.

Draco whimpered and bit his lip, grabbing Harry’s shirt and bracing his other hand against the door.

Harry twisted his wrist with every stroke, “Is this-?”

Draco nodded, dropping his head onto Harry’s shoulder.

Harry kissed his neck, and Draco shuddered as the heat grew, “I’m close,” Draco said breathlessly and in a matter of moments groaned as he came, clinging even closer to Harry through the wave of pleasure.

Draco lifted his head, and they kissed soft and languid.

Harry reached into his pocket, taking out his wand and flicking a cleaning charm over them.

The sweat and mess might be gone, but his hair and clothes were still a disaster, Draco sighed, “I want a shower.”

“I’ll have one in the morning, I think,” Harry said.

“I was thinking we could shower together,” Draco said.

“Oh.”

Draco took a step back, his trousers taking the opportunity to fall to the ground. He pushed his pants off as well, kicking the lot behind him. Draco pulled his jumper down, though it only covered half his bum, trying not to feel self-conscious with the way Harry was staring at him.

“Join me?” Draco asked.

Harry nodded, offering no resistance as Draco grabbed his sleeve and guided him into the bathroom.

Draco turned on the water and adjusted the heat of the water, pulling off his shirt and stepping into the shower. He ducked his head under the spray, pushing his fingers through his hair with a sigh.

“Are you coming?” Draco asked, looking back to where Harry was still frozen in place. Draco raised an eyebrow, “Harry?”

Harry twitched and quickly tried to drag his jumper off, nearly losing his glasses, taking a second to cast water-repelling and defogging charms, before trying to put them back on while pushing his jeans off at the same time. He tripped, barely catching himself on the sink counter, and took a little more care removing the rest of this clothes.  
Harry pushed his hand through his hair ruefully as stepped inside the shower

Draco straightened Harry’s glasses as he fought down a smile.

“Just laugh, I know I looked ridiculous,” Harry said.

Draco grinned, “You’re such a klutz.”

Harry sighed and tried to push his damp hair back, but it seemed to be curling even more than usual which only helped its agenda of being a menace to society. He took Draco’s arm, stepping around him and into the spray, letting the water soak into his hair.

Draco reached out, spreading his hands over Harry’s back.

Harry jumped slightly, “What are you doing?”

“Touching you,” Draco said absently, running his hands down the tan skin. He had a lot of scars, a few old and faded, and some new and sharp. Draco drew his thumb across a long slashing scar over Harry’s ribs. They were all so starkly pale against Harry’s darker skin.

“…Draco-”

Draco cupped Harry’s arse in both hands.

Harry spun back around, “You- really- I -!”

“The thing about seekers-” Draco said, stepping closer, and slipping his hands around Harry’s waist and slowly sliding then further back and down to grab his bum again, “-they spend so much time racing around, flexing their thighs and hips and arse, they really have the finest-”

Harry grabbed Draco’s arse and squeezed, smirking in delight when Draco let out an undignified yelp. “You know, I think you might be right, Draco.”

Draco glared at him.

Harry kissed the pout from his lips and laughed.

Draco reached up and touched and tugged at Harry’s hair, “You didn’t use the conditioner this morning did you?”

“Conditioner is kind of pointless isn’t it?”

Draco rolled his eyes, “Your hair would be a lot more manageable if you did.” He grabbed his shampoo and slowly began working it into a lather in Harry’s hair, massaging it into his scalp and getting a delightfully indecent moan for his effort. Draco bit his lip, watching a line of soapy bubbles slid down Harry’s neck and down onto his chest

“Merlin, that’s amazing,” Harry muttered his eyes closed.

Draco let the shampoo rinse out and grabbed his conditioner, “Switch with me.” Harry stepped around Draco and out of the direct spray so Draco could work the conditioner in, “Now let it sit for at least three minutes before rinsing. It’s entirely worth the effort.”

“And if I didn’t use the conditioner I could already be done,” Harry said.

“Wash the rest of yourself? Have a wank? There’s plenty to do,” Draco said.

“No wonder you took so long this morning,” Harry said.

“No wonder you didn’t,” Draco said and gave Harry a look, “Who doesn’t wank in the shower?”

Harry grabbed the shampoo and poured a dollop directly onto Draco’s head.

“Hey-!”

“The tower showers aren’t, uh, very private,” Harry said, working the shampoo up into a lather, his hands rough but careful. “I just got used to doing it in my bed with the curtains pulled and a few silencing charms.”

“A few?”

“The idea of any of the lads overhearing me-” Harry shook his head, “No. Just no way.”

Draco grimaced and nodded, “If Blaise had ever found something like that out he would have never let me live it down,” Draco said.

“Where did Zabini end up anyway? He wasn’t in… in the war.”

“France or maybe Italy, he was rather vague and in a hurry when I saw him last,” Draco said closing his eyes, “Theo went to America to finish his schooling because they won’t care about his father there, and Gregory is doing community service for a commuted sentence.”

Harry was quiet.

Draco leaned his head back to rinse his hair and wiped the water from his eyes.

Harry was staring at Draco’s chest. He reached out and traced a line nearly as pale as Draco’s skin, only the faint pink hue to the scars making them visible, “I thought… Snape said dittany would…” Harry’s brow furrowed, “Weren’t there a lot more than this? I remember it- it was horrible.”

“Tactful as always,” Draco said, taking Harry’s hand and pouring conditioner in the palm and then guiding Harry’s frozen hand to his head, “There were. I asked Severus to leave those ones.”

“Why?” Harry asked, looking deeply upset, his fingers slowly combing the conditioner into Draco’s hair.

Draco sighed, “…for blackmail purposes.”

Harry froze, “What?”

“I asked Severus to leave some as evidence to blackmail you,” Draco said peevishly, “I didn’t have time or means or will to follow through. It was just a childish impulse.”

A slow smile of utter disbelief spread across Harry’s face, and he let out a bark of laughter, “Of course you did.”

“Oh fuck off,” Draco muttered.

Harry slid his hand down Draco’s chest again, his fingers slippery with conditioner. He shook his head, “I didn’t know what the spell did… or why I cast it. It was so stupid.  _I_  was so stupid.”

“You won’t hear me argue that particular point,” Draco said.

“Still-”

“I nearly crucioed you,” Draco said, “You were the last person in the world I ever wanted to see me crying. Of all people that had to walk into that bathroom. You have the worst timing.”

“It was more like I had been following you,” Harry said, a touch guiltily.

Draco’s eyes widened as realisation dawned, “That fucking map!”

“Yeah,” Harry said chagrined.

Draco shook his head.

“Why don’t you hold it against me? Why are you so… okay about what I- I did?” Harry asked.

“You have to answer the same question,” Draco said, “I’m not going to say unless you do as well.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded.

Draco took a deep breath, looking down at the water draining at their feet and tried to shift the subject, “Really, we ought to be having an entirely different sort of conversation with us being naked and wet-”

“Draco.”

“Fine,” Draco muttered, his shoulders slumping slightly, “I suppose it comes down to this. The past made us who we are but… I don’t care about it much. I don’t-” he frowned and turned over his left forearm, the remnant of the dark mark just an ugly raised scar. It was far redder than any other scar he had and unbearably sensitive, like a wound that no longer bled but refused to heal. He brushed his fingers over the skin, and his left hand twitched and spasmed at the uncomfortable sensation, “-I don’t want to be held prisoner by a past that’s dead and gone. All that matters to me is what happens now.”

Harry raised his hand to touch Draco’s arm and Draco quickly pulled it away, pressing it against his stomach.

“Your turn,” Draco said, “Why doesn’t it bother you? All the horrible shite I did to you over the years.”

“It was mostly just obnoxious,” Harry said.

“Some of it was horrible. Enough of it.”

“Well…same as you mostly,” Harry said.

Draco narrowed his eyes, “That’s a cop-out, and you bloody well know it.”

Harry took a step closer, and Draco stepped back, the water that had been sluicing down his back hitting the back of this head making him gasp and sputter in the spray.

Draco smacked Harry’s shoulder, “You fuck!”

Harry laughed and ran his hands through Draco’s hair, working the conditioner out. “…I just feel like who you are isn’t who you were,” he said, “You’ve changed. In a good way.”

Draco stepped out of the way so Harry could stick his head under the shower.

“But is it enough,” Draco said quietly, guilty and was relieved when Harry pushed his hair out of his face and asked-

“What was that?” as he turned off the water.

“Nothing really,” Draco said, stepping out of the shower and wrapping himself up in a fluffy white towel and throwing another at Harry, “We should get ready for bed. I have a train to catch in the morning.”

  
  


  
  



	30. Chapter 30

His old room, he was in his old room. Draco couldn’t make out the details of the small space, but he knew, he felt it in the growing pit in his stomach. 

Darkness and shadows crept in, edges of light showed edges of shelves and the shadows of the toys and figures lining them stretched up over the walls like reaching fingers. And a single line of light shone under the narrow door. Something was moving, a clicking shifting something that cast a pacing shadow.

His old bed, always too narrow was now far too big, sinking and pulling him down in like a swamp. Draco tried to cry out for his mother but the words caught and stuck in his throat like treacle.

The shadow under the door paced back and forth. He tried to push himself back, scrambling and shoving, his legs suddenly weak and useless. He had to hide, he had to get to the back of the closet and hold his breath until it was gone. But the sheets caught around his feet and bed kept pulling him down. And Draco knew, he knew his mother couldn’t save him. 

Something scratched at the door. The knob rattled. And slowly began to turn.

Everything came loose all at once, and Draco moved backwards, away from the door and off the bed and fell and fell and-

Draco twitched awake, his heart thundering in his chest and echoing up into his head. He held perfectly still as his eyes slowly focused on the room, lit faintly by the lamps in the sitting room, reminding him that this wasn’t that room, that time, it was just a nightmare.

He unclenched his jaw, blinked, forced himself to relax. He pushed himself up, shivering as the cool air hit his sweat-soaked sleep shirt and conjured a glass of water, sipping it slowly, pressing the glass against his flushed cheeks.

A huff made him look down at Harry, more on Draco’s pillow than the one he had started on, Harry’s brown furrowed with a faint frown and his hands, that had been loose and open, he pulled tight to his chest.

Draco vanished the glass and laid back down, trying not to disturb Harry as he eased the blankets and heavy comforter back over them. Harry let out a little sigh and curled in closer to him. Draco brushed the hair back off Harry’s forehead. He could just make out his famous scar in the dim light.

Draco never understood the weight a scar could have until he carried his own scars and they were light as a feather in comparison to Harry’s. Except his were caused by bad decisions and lashing out and impossible choices and would burden Draco for the rest of his life, would make him a burden for anyone he was close to.

Draco sighed and pressed his face into the pillow, willing himself to go back to sleep. He knew his thoughts were poisoned by the nightmare and how late it was but even knowing that he couldn’t keep himself from thinking to them.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Draco flinched as someone pinched him hard on the arm.

“Wake up, dumb-dumb,” Pansy said right by his ear. Her voice took on a sing-songy tone, “If you don’t, you know what will happen~”

Draco pulled away from her before she could cast something that would inevitably be cold, wet and possibly slimy. He glared at her through sleep squinted eyes, “Why the fuck are you here?”

Pansy propped her elbows on the bed, “If you mean, ‘where is your precious Potter’ he’s eating breakfast, or something. He was trying to wake you  _nicely_ ,” she made a face, “when you’re practically a lump of wet mud this early.”

Draco groaned into his pillow in agreement.

“What happened to your hair?” Pansy snickered.

Draco raised his head, a few fine strands of hair floating down onto his nose, loose and staticy. He tried to blow them off, and they fell right back, making his nose itch. “Harry rinsed my conditioner out too soon,” he said scratching his nose and trying to smooth his hair back.

Pansy raised an eyebrow, “Showering together? You must have had fun then.”

Draco felt a soppy smile coming on and turned it into a smirk, “Quite a lot actually.” He stretched and considered pushing himself up but found it to be far too much effort.

“Trust me, I do not care,” Pansy said.

“And he apologised about the incident in sixth year,” Draco said.

Pansy looked at her hand, “No, he didn’t,” and held it out in front of Draco, tapping her pinky finger at the base where a thin line ringed it like the shadow of a tried string, “I noticed it last night. I’ve never done heart magic before, but of course, it’s not the sort of magic you do on purpose.”

Draco held up his own hand and found an identical line traced around his own pinky finger.

Pansy idly reached out, hooking their pinkies together, “If he had really apologised, the line would disappear. That’s the promise we made.”

Draco’s brow furrowed, “But we talked about it. I could tell he felt horrid about it.”

“But he didn’t say ‘I’m sorry’, did he?” Pansy interrupted.

“I understood what he meant, and he understood what I meant, about almost cursing him back,” Draco said, dropping her hand and pushing himself up, “We both don’t care what happened in the past.”

Pansy sat on the bed beside him, “You care-”

“I don’t.”

“You  _do,_ ” Pansy shot back, “You might not hold it against him but it was an important big massive horrid thing, and it matters and the words matter, regardless of what you think. Look,” She pulled her legs on the bed so she could face him, “I thought my mother loved me no matter what and it turned out she didn’t, she only loved me when I did the things that she approved of.”

Draco reached out to her, “Pansy-”

“Don’t,” Pansy grabbed his hand with a frown. “We’re not talking about that. It’s like- um…fuck. Did-did your father ever tell you he loved you?”

Draco swallowed.

“Did he?”

“Yes.”

Pansy narrowed her eyes, “When?”

Draco grimaced, looking over at the window, “When he went to prison. Before he went out on… on raids. At the battle, when he was arrested again-”

“So only when he thought he might never see you again,” Pansy said. “What about when you were little?”

“…He would tell me he was proud of me and that I had done well, that I would grow up to be a great man,” Draco said.

“And when you came to school and didn’t have the top marks in class or win the game-?” Pansy said. She didn’t wait for an answer, she knew. “Conditional love isn’t love. Well, not that your father doesn’t love you, hell my mother might still love me a little somewhere in that cold dead shrivelled fucking heart of hers but- …but- I’ve lost the fucking plot…” She shook her head roughly and squeezed his hand, “Some things are too important not to be said. They need to be said because they need to be heard. And especially with you and Potter, there’s no way you aren’t going to fight, you absolutely have to be able to apologise to each other.”

“I would but I made a promise not to,” Draco said pointedly.

“Yes, but you’re ass over tea kettle for the dumb idiot,” Pansy said.

Draco didn’t answer which was already too much of an answer.

“It will be fine. If he cares about you the promise won’t matter,” Pansy said.

“I hope so,” Draco said.

Pansy frowned at him, “Potter’s an idiot, but he’s not cruel Draco.”

Draco nodded.

“I guess I could talk to him again, properly this time,” Pansy made a face, “if I  _have_  to.”

“You know, I think you two might actually get along quite well,” Draco said.

Pansy made a gagging noise.

Draco grinned. “Oh,” he held his hands out to Pansy, “and take this polish off.”

Pansy took a hand, swiping her thumb over his painted nails, “You sure? It so suits you.”

Draco sighed, “Yes. I’m trying to keep my head down, you know. I don’t want to risk catching the eye of any arseholes.”

Pansy made a face.

“You can give me another manicure after we graduate,” Draco assured her.

“Promises, promises,” Pansy said, taking out her wand and removing the protective charms from the nail lacquer. Or she tried, repeatedly, and then looked up at him apologetically through her bangs, “Sorry.”

“Pansy!”

“In my defence, you know better than to let me cast when I’m drunk,” Pansy said. She brandished her wand again and threw a glamour over his nails to hide the colour.

“In  _my_  defence, I was fairly fucking drunk myself,” Draco said, his shoulders slumping.

Pansy patted his hand, “The magic should weaken enough to be removed in a week or two.”

Draco glared at her.

“A month at the most.”

Draco lunged for a pillow and smacked Pansy in the side, ignoring her swearing and threats, lifting the pillow to bean her over the head.

Harry cleared his throat by the door looking unbearable awkward. “Kipper said we have to leave in half an hour, if you wanted to eat or, you know, get changed?”

“Only a half an hour?” Draco groaned.

Pansy quickly smoothed her hair, as she stood up and stepped out of pillow range, “Yes, we don’t want to miss the train, do we?”

Draco considered throwing the pillow at her head, “Help me fix my hair, and I’ll consider forgiving you.”

Pansy rolled her eyes, “I would have anyway.”

Draco released his weapon and hurried to get ready.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Kipper stood by the main doors, ready to pull them open for the three of them to leave.

Mother hugged him for the third time that morning, stepping back smoothing his sleeves out of habit even though his grey muggle peacoat didn’t need straightening like a robe. “Make sure you write me at least once a week,” she said.

“I will,” Draco reassured her.

“And speak to the Headmistress if there are difficulties, she’s been very good to you considering everything,” Mother went on.

“I know.”

“And you can always come home if things get difficult.”

Draco said firmly, “Everything will be fine.”

Mother nodded, twisting her hands together.

“I’ll be back for spring hols before you know it,” Draco said.

Mother hugged him again, a brief squeeze, and then shooed him out the door before she had to hug him again.

Draco was the last to go down the steps, turning back to see his mother with her hands clasped so tightly together her knuckles were white, all three house elves were there, and bowed before closing the doors. It was a relief to see them, somehow. He just knew his mother would be safe and well cared for.

“Draco,” Pansy called.

Draco nodded and hurried after them, his shoes crunching on the gravel drive as they made their way down past the wards.

“It was lovely seeing you, Potter,” Pansy said flatly.

Harry stared at her.

Pansy made a shooing motion.

“I was going to go back with you,” Harry said trying not to frown at her.

Pansy looking slightly alarmed, “You can’t be serious.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Harry said.

“The last time you two were together in public the headline the next day was ‘death eater’s revenge: a new plot,’  _Potter_ ,” Pansy said, all civility going out of her voice, “What do you think is going to happen this time, butterflies and unicorns?”

Harry looked skeptical.

“You’re apparating back,” Pansy said, “You and Draco can meet up back at school. Preferably not in public.”

“It was fine wasn’t it?” Harry said.

Pansy bristled, “The headline came out right before we left! Who knows what people are saying!”

Harry straightened his shoulders, “No one reads the paper.”

“It’s the best selling wizarding publication in the fucking UK!”

“It’s a fucking rag,” Harry snapped back, “Only idiots believe the garbage they print.”

“Newsflash, Potter, the country is full of idiots!” Pansy shouted, her face starting to flush red.

Harry glared back at her, his jaw jumping and flexing before he turned and raised his wand with a defiant glare.

Pansy was practically vibrating with rage, “I am going to kill you,” she seethed.

“It will be  _fine_ ,” Harry enunciated sharply, refusing to even look at her.

Before Pansy could tear Harry’s throat out with her bare hands, the purple monstrosity roared up, screeching to a halt right in front of them.

Harry stomped up the steps, and that was that.

Pansy swung around to Draco, “Do something.”

“Like what?” Draco asked feeling pinned between two immovable points.

“Tell him to go back by himself,” Pansy said.

Draco could easily imagine that particular scenario, and it ended in shouting and anger.

“You getting on?” The bus driver asked looking annoyed.

“Yes,” Draco put a foot on the first step.

Pansy grabbed his arm, “One fight, or the entire world turning on you.”

“It might not,” Draco said. He pressed a hand over his furrowed brow, trying to wipe the worry from his face, “They love him. It could work out for the best-”

“Don’t be your mother,” Pansy snapped.

Draco stared at Pansy.

An expression of utter horror at what she had just said took over Pansy’s expression.

“There are other people wanting to be picked up,” the driver said.

“I’m sorry,” Pansy blurted, “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No. You shouldn’t have,” Draco said climbed onto the bus, noting with relief that at least it was still empty. He pulled the coins for his and Pansy’s fare out of his pocket, fumbling them into the basket, his hands shaking from adrenaline.

Harry was sitting on a small loveseat and patted the spot beside him. Draco shook his head and took a heavy armchair further back, ignoring Harry’s hurt look.

“Miss?” the driver called.

Pansy stepped onto the bus. She pulled a pair of muggle sunglasses from her pocket and carefully put them on, the large black plastic frames and dark brown lenses hiding her eyes along with nearly half her face. She collapsed into a small armchair, pulling her feet up on the cushion and wrapping her arms around her knees as the bus lurched forward.

  
  



	31. Chapter 31

Draco stared out the window for most of short, horrible ride, and Pansy eventually went from upset to something like her old self as she made sure to flip Harry off with both hands whenever she slid past him, at least until they stopped at a small village outside London and an old witch got on. She looked about a hundred and three and sat next to Harry with a gap-toothed grin.

“You’re Harry Potter!” she said with a laugh.

Harry forced a smile as he put one arm over the back of the small loveseat and gripped the arm with his other hand, holding himself in his corner of the chair so he wouldn’t squish the old crone.

The witch didn’t seem to notice, lurching into Harry at every horrific turn as she talked, “-I’ve always thought you looked like my Edward when he was young, such a dashing wizard, they don’t make the like these days with the strange things young people are saying and doing, and pulling a child into their silly messes, its the worst, now my Edward he was always for keeping oneself to oneself and I do agree it seems fussing about only leads to trouble, of course when I say keep to oneself this doesn’t mean missing out on tea with the girls, you have to have some sort of chatting, it keeps you lively, don’t you think-?”

Harry nodded, “Er-yea-”

“I do think so, friends are very important to one’s mental health, I was just reading in a magazine the other day, and they quite agree, one must have friends-”

Draco couldn’t help but take a little pleasure from Harry’s situation, hiding a grin under his hand.

Harry noticed and glared at him over the old woman’s head.

A few minutes later they were screeching to a halt in front of the rail station.

Harry jumped to his feet, “Lovely to meet you. Have to go,” He took the old woman’s hand, shook it twice, dropped it and, before the witch could start another story, Harry was gone down the steps.

The witch stared after him in surprise,“…What a lovely young man.” She turned to Draco, “Don’t you think? You look remarkably familiar, my nephew has just the same-”

Draco rose, “I’m afraid this is my stop, but you are quite right, he is lovely,” he said with a bright smile and swept off the bus.

Draco walked to one of the steel poles at the entrance of the station and waited for Pansy.

“I am sorry about what I said,” Pansy said as she walked over to him.

“I know,” Draco said.

Pansy pouted up at him, “Forgive me?”

“I suppose I do,” Draco said.

Pansy looked down at her feet.

“You’re my best friend, Pans. I was already well aware of your magnificent tendency to put your foot in it at the worst possible moments,” Draco said.

Pansy surged forward and hugged him tight. She muttered into his coat, “More like my entire ass.”

Draco snickered.

“I’m trying to be better about it,” Pansy said as she stepped back.

“I tend to bring out the worst in people,” Draco said as the two of them walked slowly into the station.

“Only when you provoke them,” Pansy said, “That was all my own fault, or Potter’s. Mostly Potter’s.”

“He’s also rather good at provoking people,” Draco said.

Pansy wrinkled her nose, “I think, for now, I’m going to keep out of Potter’s way.”

“You don’t have to-” Draco tried to protest.

Pansy waved his protests off, “He’s stupid, and he doesn’t even know he’s stupid, just looking at him makes my blood boil. I’ll sit with Jenna and Melanie for the ride back.”

Draco nodded.

“You can come sit with us if you need to, okay?” Pansy said.

Harry was just inside standing beside a bin and tugging his fringe down over his eyes as he scanned the crowd. His eyes lit up when he spotted Draco, and he began dodging through the crowds to reach him.

Draco felt Pansy’s small hand in his and returned her comforting squeeze before she slipped ahead, easily disappearing through gaps in the crowd.

“Hey,” Harry said breathlessly and then turned on his heel, looking around, “Where did Parkinson go?”

“She’s meeting up with her friends. You didn’t have to wait,” Draco said.

“I wanted to,” Harry said with a smile, “Not much of a point of going back with you if I don’t go back with you.”

Harry tugged his fringe over his forehead again as they came to the 9 ¾ barrier and walked through the bricks. The platform was already bustling with parents saying goodbye and friends meeting up filling the space with a formless chattering noise.

Harry ducked his head and hunched his shoulders, heading towards straight to the nearest train car.

A path that, Draco realised too late, took them straight towards someone he knew but had never spoken to, Cynthia Dour, the new head writer for the Prophet.

She had short brown hair that was cut like a line just above her shoulders and wore well-tailored but severely simple black robes. She was relatively young and had been in charge of the politics section of the paper before Skeeter had been demoted, and Dour had been subsequently promoted to lead story writer.

Draco grabbed Harry’s arm, trying to steer him into a clump of students on their right. Instead of following Draco’s lead, Harry froze for just a second, his gaze flicking around the room as he grabbed his wand.

“We have to go-” Draco hissed.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, on high alert.

It was too late. Dour had spotted them and slipped around the two wizards separating them. Draco knew he couldn’t run, it wouldn’t look good.

“Harry Potter.” Dour said.

Harry nodded stiffly.

“We’ve never been formally introduced, on account of you avoiding me at every turn.” Dour’s voice was measured, her words falling like heavy, deliberate footsteps, approaching with an ominous certainty, “Cynthia Dour, reporter for the Prophet. You can call me Ms Dour.”

“…I’ve had better things to do,” Harry said, the stiffness creeping into his voice.

The corners of Dour’s mouth turned up ever so slightly, “Of course, you went through so much.” Ms Dour opened her black clutch purse and took out her wand, sweeping a privacy spell around them. When she put her wand away, she took out a simple white notebook and a bright yellow fountain pen. She pinned the clutch under her arm and flipped open the notebook, her pen poised above the unmarred parchment, “Shall we talk?”

Harry didn’t answer, the muscle in his jaw jumping.

Ms Dour’s gaze slowly moved to Draco, languid but interested.

Harry followed her look and frowned, “Were you the one who wrote the article about Draco? The one about a new death eater plot?”

“Yes.” Ms Dour said, “It was all here-say and rumours, but it’s quite rare to see you out with anyone other than your close friends and allies, especially a death eater.”

“He was underage and being threatened, he couldn’t consent to what was done to him,” Harry said through clenched teeth.

Draco wanted to shake his head, to tell Harry to just stop talking with her but he felt certain she would spot anything he tried to do. There was something about Cynthia Dour that reminded Draco of a panther slowly stalking its prey, and he didn’t like it in the least.

“I know. I attended all the trials.” Ms Dour said.

“Then why did you write it?” Harry asked.

Ms Dour jotted some notes down in shorthand.

“It was a slow news day.”

Harry stared at her, “What?”

Ms Dour looked up at him, “You sell copy, Mr Potter. And the front page needed filling. Since it’s a concern of yours, I’d be glad to take your statement right now.”

“Draco’s not a death eater, and he’s not plotting anything,” Harry said.

“He was marked.” Ms Dour said.

Harry gritted his teeth, “Underage, not in a position to refuse without being tortured or killed,  _ex_ -deatheater.”

“And not on good terms with you since you were eleven.” Ms Dour said.

Harry didn’t respond.

“People are wondering why you’re close now.” Ms Dour said.

“We’re…” Harry hesitated, “friends.”

“The Malfoys are famous for their skilled manipulation of people in power.” Ms Dour said.

“You mean Lucius was. Draco hasn’t done anything,” Harry said.

Ms Dour took a few more notes, “They say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry said, anger edging his voice.

“What it sounds like. Your opinion on the matter is interesting but hardly objective. How can the object of manipulation be aware of how it is being manipulated?”

“By being a person and not an object,” Harry said coldly.

Ms Dour turned her gaze to Draco, “And what is your statement on the matter?”

Draco wasn’t sure answering was any better than staying silent but decided to try anyway, “Harry has been very kind to accept me after our fraught history. We’ve worked very hard to understand and forgive one another after everything that happened in our past,” he said in what he hoped was a modest tone of voice.

Ms Dour nodded and flipped to a new page in her notebook, “Are you dating anyone, Mr Potter?”

“We should get going,” Harry said, “Don’t want to miss the train.”

Ms Dour looked over at the station clock, “It doesn’t leave for another twenty minutes.”

“So soon?” Draco said, “We had better go then.”

“What about Ginevra Weasley? You dated before the war. Are you still together?” Ms Dour continued.

Harry took out his wand, dispelling the privacy charm, “Glad we could clear things up. Got to go.”

They stepped around Ms Dour and hurried toward the train.

“What about after school?” Ms Dour asked, following them, “Do you still intend to join the aurors? Is a position still open for you regardless of training?”

Harry let Draco step onto the train first and paused before getting on himself.

“What are you going to do?” Ms Dour asked.

“I don’t know. …Maybe I’ll move to Borneo and sell ice lollies,” Harry said with a smirk and step into the compartment, ignoring Ms Dour calling after him.

Draco stepped into the first empty compartment he found, closing the door behind them.

“Merlin,” Draco breathed, leaning back against the door.

“That didn’t go too badly,” Harry said.

“It went horribly,” Draco said.

Harry frowned, “We didn’t say anything bad.”

Draco looked down at the floor, tapping one foot nervously, “We didn’t have to. Apparently, you haven’t read the Prophet lately.”

“Hermione tells me if there’s anything important,” Harry said.

“Well Dour doesn’t care what people say, or truth, for that matter. She writes whatever sells and has been making the Prophet a lot of money, so she’s not going anywhere anytime soon.” Draco sighed, “It would have been best if we hadn’t talked to her at all.”

“I thought you said you didn’t care what people think?” Harry said, apparently trying to lighten his mood.

“I don’t care what they  _think_ ; I care what they  _do_. The paper writing shite about me is only going to encourage people to act on the things they’ve only thought about until now,” Draco said, the paced the window, looking over to the other side of the tracks. He pulled the blinds closed on all the windows and cast a muffalito around the compartment.

Harry frowned, “What? I know your mum thinks someone might hurt you, but everyone at school’s been fine. You said yourself no one’s done anything.”

“ Yet.” Draco said, pushing past Harry to go to the door and close the little blind over the door window.

Harry grabbed his arm, pulling him back, “If no one’s done anything, no one will. Everyone at the school was in the war, whether they wanted to or not, they fought the last battle they’re not going to hurt one of their own-”

“I’m not  _one of their own_ ,” Draco tensing his arm in Harry’s grip, “I was a death eater, and-”

“You didn’t-”

Draco raised his voice, his heartbeat thundering in his throat, “-and when the Carrows told me to punish someone, I didn’t refuse like Longbottom or hide in the room of lost things,  _I did as I was told._ ”

Harry’s grip loosened.

“I hurt people. I don’t deserve to be forgiven, and they know that. All of them know it,” Draco said taking a step back, “I was a bully, I know- I know when someone’s weak and vulnerable, that’s when you hurt them and now they don’t even have to feel guilty about it because they’ll be protecting  _you_ , their hero-”

“It’s- Don’t-” Harry shook his head, closing the gap Draco had made between them, “You could stop pacing? And panicking?”

“ _No_ ,” Draco said.

“Draco… I don’t- It’s going to be fine,” Harry said wrapping his arms around Draco.

Draco pressed his eyes closed, “You can’t fix everything with hugging.”

Harry held him tighter, “Are you sure? Because I don’t really-”

“YO,” The compartment door snapped open.

Harry and Draco jumped back from one another.

Weaslette stepped inside, “Break it up, kiddos.”

“We’re older than you Gin,” Harry said, relief flooding his voice.

Weaslette shrugged, “We’re all kids, so it still works.” She lifted her trunk and hefted it up to the top rack, even with lightening charms her control over the unwieldy box was impressive.

“Hullo,” Luna said with a smile as she stepped inside and slid the door shut behind her.

“Give me your trunk?” Weaslette said.

Luna passed her a chest painted dark blue covered in intricate swirling white lines that made neither rhyme nor reason but were still quite beautiful. Weaslette put Luna’s chest up and then took out another trunk from her pocket and unshrunk it.

“Oh, that’s-” Harry said.

“You’re welcome,” Weaslette said, falling back into one of the seats.

“Thanks,” Harry said with a smile. He lifted his trunk, the corner hit the edge of the shelf and Harry lurched, losing his balance, smooshing his face into the back of his trunk, one side of his glasses falling off his ear as he managed to lift it higher and slide it into place. Harry put his glasses back on and held out his hand to Draco expectantly like he hadn’t just nearly dropped his own trunk on his head.

Draco took his tiny trunk from his pocket, set it on the overhead rack and then unshrunk it, raising an eyebrow at Harry.

“Clever,” Harry said with a grin.

“Slytherin,” Weaslette said somewhere just off the edge of neutral and dipping ever so slightly into hostile.

Draco realised too late that his showing off had inadvertently committed him staying in the compartment for the rest of the trip. Being with Harry would have been, well if not nice, at least comfortable. Weaslette had a look in her eye that made Draco feel the opposite entirely.

“Why are you sitting with us?” Draco asked as neutrally as he could manage, taking the seat across from Luna.

Weaslette huffed out a sigh, “I promised Ron I would. He was dead set on coming until I did. Which reminds me…” She patted her pockets until she found a folded piece of parchment and took out her wand. She read over the parchment and cast something at Harry that surrounded him in a blue aura, then another spell that made his hair stand straight up for a second, and a final third spell that turned Harry’s breath into a white fog while she cast it.

“What was that?” Harry said patting his hair down and looking thoroughly ruffled.

Weaslette put her wand away and crumpled the parchment, “Checking for poisons, love potions and mind control.”

Harry’s mouth twitched, his brow drawing together.

“You went to his house, Harry. The one that used to be full of Voldemort and death eaters,” Weaslette said.

Luna tapping her toes on Draco’s shoes, “I told them it would be fine.”

Weaslette shook her head and actually looked at Draco for the first time since she had come in, “Luna and Nev say he’s better than he was but considering how fuckin horrible that was it doesn’t take much for anything to be an improvement.”

“Gin-” Harry said.

“And it doesn’t change the fact that he almost killed Bill and Ron in sixth year and he was on the side of the war that got Fred killed,” Weaslette voice wavered, and she swallowed hard, “That’s a pretty significant portion of my family, don’t you think?”

“Sorry,” Draco said faintly, looking fixedly at his hands clasped tightly in his lap, “I’m sorry.”

Silence stretched out between them.

The train whistle blew loudly, and the car lurched slightly as they finally began moving.

“…You ought to apologise to Bill and Ron… and mum, not me,” Weaslette said stiffly.

Draco nodded, “…still. I am sorry.”

Weaslette slouched down in her seat. Luna scooted close to her, leaning against Weaslette’s shoulder, talking to her close and quiet, her voice a gentle murmur.

Draco pushed up the window blinds and stared out at buildings and streets as the train made its way out of the London.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


As the landscape outside gave way to communities and then to frost-brown fields topped by a periwinkle blue sky, the tension in the cabin slowly faded.

Weaslette took Luna’s hand, “Did you see that horrible newspaper woman on the platform? She almost made us miss the train.”

“Did she harass you?” Harry asked with a frown.

Weaslette rolled her eyes, “That’s her job. She asked if you and I were dating, completely ignoring the fact that Luna and I were holding hands.”

“It would be funny if she wasn’t so mean,” Luna said.

“Once she got tired of that, she asked me if I’d been approached by any teams,” Weaslette bit her lips with an excited grin, “She said there are rumours I’m being scouted by the Magpies, the Arrows and- the Harpies!”

“Wow,” Harry said with a huge smile, “You playing for a professional team right out of school? That’s amazing, Ginny!”

“Makes practising all summer worth it,” Weaslette said looking rightfully smug, “I’d be keen to play for any team, ‘cept the Cannons, but playing for the Harpies has been my dream since I started flying.”

“How are the Harpies doing anyway? I’ve haven’t kept up with much quidditch since school started.” Harry said.

Draco tuned the conversation out, he had been far too busy to follow the season. Draco watched Harry instead, they easy way he smiled and the way he relaxed into the seat, moving his hands as he talked and looking so very comfortable talking with her.

Luna tapped his shoe to get his attention and then held out a notebook and her large muggle pen that held many colours. Draco took them both. Luna had drawn a smiley face and below that a squiggle of lines. Draco stared at the squiggle then added a few more, clicked one of the notches of the top of the pen down to make the ink red and then added a few more, yellow for a beak and legs until he had a silly looking chicken. He changed the pen colour to blue and made a few random straight lines and one curved in an empty corner of the page before handing it back to Luna.

Luna stuck her tongue out as she began drawing, turning Draco’s lines into something lovely or strange or possibly both.

“What are you guys doing?” Harry asked curiously.

Draco stiffened as he realised both Harry and Weaslette had stopped talking to watch them.

“When Luna would visit she would- we would do this sort of, game?” Draco tried to explain, rather poorly.

“It’s a nice way to be together when you don’t really want to talk,” Luna said, “Draco’s nice to not talk with.”

Harry nodded.

Luna turned the notebook around to show them, “See, I drew this little squiggle, and Draco turned it into a cute little chicken, and he drew these lines that I’m making into flowers in a bowl, and we just trade it back and forth.” She put the book down on her lap, holding the pen in her mouth as she rummaged around her bag and took out two more books, one a bound sketchbook and a small muggle spiral note, “We could all play?” she offered.

“Sure,” Weaslette said with a smile, taking the big journal and a proffered pen.

Harry nervously took the smaller one, “What do I do?”

“Anything you want,” Luna said, “It’s for fun, Harry.”

Harry ended up making a mad little scribble and quickly handing it to Draco.

It was a bit too squashed to be anything fancy, so Draco just turned it into a cross-eyed sheep. He made a new scribble and passed it to Weaslette who gave Harry a doodle of swooping looping lines that he turned into a snake.

They played through lunch, a lunch provided by Mrs Weasley. She had packed enough food for a small army, and it had smelled far too good to refuse when Harry had pushed a sandwich into his hands. Harry excused himself to the loo as they were cleaning up.

“Hey, Luna, could you give us a minute?” Weaslette said, nodding to Draco.

Draco sat a little straighter.

“You’ll be nice?” Luna asked as she stood.

“I won’t hit him,” Weaslette said.

Luna stopped with one hand on the door and waited.

Weaslette sighed, “I’ll be nice.”

“Okay,” Luna said, “I’ll go talk with Harry a bit then.” She closed the door behind her with a click that felt far too loud and left a pooling silence in its wake.

Weaslette sighed again, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees, “I just- Look, I wasn’t expecting you’d apologise or draw stupid chickens-” her face scrunched up, radiating discomfort, “It’s just, I feel like I should tell you something, even if it is  _you_.”

“ What?” Draco asked quietly, mentally bracing himself for the worst.

“I don’t think he’s ready for a relationship,” Weaslette said, she looked up at Draco, “Harry, I mean.”

“…Why?” Draco asked a lead weight sinking into his gut.

“The past it, takes up so much of him, and now he has school to worry about, I don’t think he can commit to a serious relationship.” Weaslette looked back at her feet,” Harry needs, he needs to- to talk to a mind healer, to heal and recover and I felt like I should tell you,” her voice softened, “I’d have like to have been.”

Weaslette took a deep breath and sat back in her chair.

Draco looked out the window.

“I mean I know it’s not going to change anything,” Weaslette said, “I can tell you care about him as much as I’ve seen you care about anything.”

Draco nodded in acknowledgement.

“I decided after Fred I’d never have regrets. So I had to say something,” Weaslette said matter of factly.

Draco didn’t know what to say to that, so he just continued staring out the window at the passing fields.

Weaslette picked up Luna’s sketchbook and flipped through the pages, looking at Luna’s drawing of magical creatures.

Draco asked, “What should I call you? Luna said you didn’t mind Weaslette but-”

Weaslette snorted, grinning faintly. She thought for a few seconds before answering, “Ginny. Not Gin, not Ginevra. Just Ginny.”

Draco nodded, “Ginny then.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Draco? Draco we’re here.”

Draco blinked. He’d been staring at his hands, and at some point the train had reached Hogwarts, he could see the lights of the castle in the distance. Ginny was already gone out the door with Luna only a few steps behind. Luna saw Draco was looking and waved before running to catch up with her girlfriend.

“You’ve been quiet ever since lunch,” Harry said, pulling his jacket on and zipping the front.

Draco looked back down at his hands, “I was thinking.”

“About revisions already? You’re as bad a Hermione, well not that bad, she was studying flashcards every day but christmas,” Harry said. He handed Draco his coat.

Draco took the heavy grey wool, clutching it in both hands as he stood up, “You said I could ask you questions… There’s something I wanted to ask you.”

“Now? Sure, yeah,” Harry said.

He just needed one thing. If he had that, Draco knew he could manage anything the world threw at him. Just one thing.

Draco took a deep breath and asked, “Do you like me?”

Harry blinked at him, his expression still like Draco’s words had frozen him in place. “What?” he said faintly.

“When I told you I liked you, you just said that you’d never fancied a bloke before and… and I just want you to say it,” Draco said, gripping coat hard enough to make his knuckles ache, desperately trying not to panic, “Harry? Did you hear me?”

“Do I like you?” Harry repeated in the same distant tone, and he frowned.

Draco couldn’t tell what sort of frown it was or what it might mean. He tensed, his heart beating harder.

“What do you think this is?” Harry asked.

He sounded hurt or, was he angry? But all Draco could seem to hear was the echo of someone else voice from a year past,  _What? Did you think this was serious? We were just playing around, blowing off steam. We have obligations-_

“ Do you really think I would-?” Harry stopped.

“You weren’t listening at all.”

“I heard you ask me if I liked you,” Harry said, “And I just don’t understand how you think-”

“Because you’ve never said, you fucking arse,” Draco snapped, anger starting to boil up over his anxiety.

Harry huffed and ran his hand through his hair, “Can we not?”

“Can. We. Not.” Draco repeated flatly.

“I just can’t- It’s been a long day,” Harry said. He looked exhausted.

Draco didn’t care.

“I’m not asking for a lot. I just want you to tell me you like me. Why is that so fucking difficult?” Draco asked.

“I know you’re worried about the reporter and it’s going to be fine, you’ll see,” Harry said, reaching out.

Draco slapped his hand away, “I  _am_  worried about the reporter, and you’re not. You’re not worried about fucking anything!”

Harry touched his arm, brushing Draco’s cheek with his other hand.

“Don’t-” Draco shoved him away, drawing his wand and hitting Harry with a tripping jinx that pulled his feet out from under him and smacked him back against the door.

“The hell-!” Harry sputtered.

“It’s been a month, Potter, a merlin-forsaken month and you haven’t said you like me, you haven’t said we’re dating, or if you care that my mother wanted you to keep our relationship a secret!” Draco clenched his jaw.

Harry just stared up at him with the stupidest expression on his face.

“You told me to be patient, and I was.” Draco slipped his wand back up his sleeve, “I’m done being patient. I’m done waiting.” He walked around Harry, slamming the door open and stepping out.

He couldn’t help glancing back, Harry’s bewildered look only made him feel more frustrated. It wasn’t until he was halfway to the castle that he felt his eyes begin to burn with tears. He stubbornly blinked them back.

  
  



	32. Chapter 32

Draco walked past the large archway leading into the great hall, ignoring the noise of the feast for their return. The shouting, the laughter, the simple ease of it all made his heart feel like it might split in two. He just wanted to be back in his dorm and sleep, hoping it would take the edge off the jaggedness caught inside him.

“Draco? Draco!” Pansy’s voice made him slow, and then stop as she ran to catch up to him. She grabbed hold of his arm as she panted. “I saw- I saw you go by.”

Pansy took a deep breath and studied his face, her lips pressing into a thin line. “…First, you need to eat,” she tugged him back the way he had come.

Draco shook his head, “I’m not going in there.”

“Fine,” Pansy said, veering down the side hall to the kitchens, “You like the kitchens. You spent nearly every meal there last year.”

“I don’t think I can eat,” Draco said though he didn’t fight her. He did like the kitchens, they had felt safe during seventh year.

Pansy tickled the pear on the kitchen’s painting and pulled Draco inside once it swung open. The elves were quick to move out of Pansy’s way, silent and scattering to the back of the room.

Draco scanned the room and spotted quite a few elves he knew. They relaxed when they recognised him and began speaking in quiet whispers. A house elf broke off from the rest coming over to them.

“Could we get… something light and easy to eat-” Pansy told the approaching elf.

“Pansy-”

“-and a ginger beer? Do you have that?”

By the time Pansy had sat on one of the short stools on an empty work table an elf, Lulu, appeared with a plate of sandwiches, and a brown bottle of ginger beer for Draco.

“Does Miss Parkinson be wanting ginger beer as well?” Lulu asked in her quiet voice.

Pansy shook her head, “Just juice or something.”

Draco slowly sat beside her.

Lulu plucked at Draco’s sleeve, “Can Lulu talk to Mister Draco?”

Draco hesitated and then shook his head, “Not today, Lulu.”

Lulu quickly nodded and said meaningfully, “Huddle Rowna wants to talk to Mister Draco. Come back to talk? Soon?”

“I will,” Draco promised.

Lulu dipped her head and ran back to the cooler to get Pansy something to drink.

Draco picked up his ginger beer, holding the bottle with both hands, enjoying the coolness against his skin.

“Don’t just play with it, drink it,” Pansy ordered.

Draco took a sip. He didn’t dislike ginger beer, but it was hard to like something he only ever had when he was nauseous

“Once you’ve done that, eat a few bites.” Pansy held up her hand before he could protest, “You don’t  _feel_  like eating, but you’re not ill, you can manage a few bites. Do it for your mother.”

Draco glared at her, “Don’t bring my mother into it.”

“I won’t, if you eat,” Pansy said, “Otherwise I’m writing her letter.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would.”

Draco held the glare for a few seconds then picked up a sandwich, taking a small petulant bite.

Pansy ate a sandwich as well, staring him down and matching him bite for bite, in the process managing to trick him into eating half before he set it back on the plate, unable to take another bite. Draco plucked a bit of lettuce off the plate and threw it at Pansy’s face. It got caught in her hair.

“ _Rude_ ,” Pansy said, combing her fingers through until she found the offending bit of green.

“You’ll live,” Draco said, turning his half-empty bottle in his hands, watching how the light caught and ambered the dark glass.

Pansy shook the lettuce off her hand, “Now that business is done tell me what happened.”

“An argument,” Draco said quietly.

“I could have guessed that,” Pansy said, almost not rolling her eyes, “What was it about?”

Draco took a deep breath and reluctantly retold what had happened on the train. He propped his elbows on the table, feeling more and more guilty as he went on, “…it was just an argument, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, and it’s amazing it took so long. I’m sure being separated for christmas helped,” Pansy said.

“Did I overreact?” Draco said.

“No.”

“Did I overstep?”

“No,” Pansy sighed.

“Should I apologise-”

“No. Draco,” Pansy said, grabbing his hand and squeezing it as hard as she could manage.

Draco looked down at his hand and the little shadow of a string tied around his finger, “Can I even apologise? The promise I made was really fucking vague wasn’t it?”

“You don’t need to apologise. What you said was true wasn’t it?” Pansy said.

“Can you take it off?”

“I- Maybe?” Pansy said reluctantly, “I could try, if that’s what you really want.”

“What else am I supposed to do?” Draco asked, his voice cracking.

“Wait,” Pansy said.

“But-”

“I think you should,” Pansy said, “Would you like some advice or would you like to panic? I promise you can still panic after I’m done.”

“Because you’ve been in so many relationships,” Draco said.

Pansy turned her head away, “I may have never dated, or have any interest in dating but that doesn’t mean I’m blind. I’ve seen relationships and read about them and talked about them. Women are practically defined by their relationships, who they date, who they marry, the children they have, the grandchildren they have, it’s stifling.” She huffed, “So I’ve ended up learning quite a lot, whether I cared or not. Now if you’re done being cruel-?”

Draco grimaced, “I’m sorry. I’m just-”

“Lashing out. You are ever so good at that.”

Draco nodded guiltily.

Pansy looked down at her hands, “…You came to him first, and when he ran away you followed him, and when he asked you to wait you did, and when he came to your home you let him in. You’ve done nearly all the work in this relationship, and all you asked was if he liked you and he couldn’t even give you that.”

Draco squeezed his eyes shut, rapidly blinking back tears.

Pansy took a deep breath, looking up at Draco, “If he really cares about you, let him come to you.”

“But what if he doesn’t?” Draco asked.

“Oh come on,” Pansy said, “Do you really think he doesn’t fancy you?”

Draco shook his head.

“I think he does as well. Seeing as the only moves the idiot has managed was kissing you and showing up new years eve, all fantastically romantic and dramatic. It’s no wonder you’ve put up with him as long as you have.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Draco said.

Pansy gave him a look that seemed to say  _sap_  and continued without answering, “I’ve done some asking around, well most to Jenna and Melanie, Hufflepuffs are such gossips, you’d never know by looking at them,  _anyway_ , Potter’s relationship experience is practically zero. I believe Ginny Weasley did most of the work in their relationship as well.”

Draco bit his lip, remembering Potter’s home and his, well, lack of family. Draco’s parents had a lot of problems, but their relationship was not one of them, they had loved each other dearly and showed it. Harry didn’t have that.

Pansy sighed and shook her head, “What it comes down to is, Potter doesn’t know how to be in a relationship but you babying him isn’t going to help. He needs to figure this out because it isn’t going to fucking work with you doing all the emotional heavy work is it?”

Draco grimaced but agreed, “Yes… it just… it hurts, Pans.”

Pansy stood up and pulled his head against her shoulder, hugging him around the neck, “You’ll make it through this. You’ll see. And I’ll help as much as I can.”

Draco hugged her back, “Thank you. I couldn’t have managed it without you.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


Draco stopped in the shadow of the wall, straightening his robes for the thousandth time that morning and took a steadying breath before stepping into the great hall. He felt the change in the air immediately, after four months of being so thoroughly ignored he might as well have not existed, he could feel the eyes and whispers of other students on him like a lead blanket across his back.

Pansy was sitting at the end of the table with her back to the wall, closest to the head table, and waved him over when she spotted him. Draco was grateful for the strategic seating location although it made the empty seats between them and the rest of Slytherin house crowded at the other end far more apparent.

“Here,” Pansy pushed the paper into his hand before Draco had even managed to sit down.

Draco dropped heavily onto the bench, “Front page?”

“The whole thing.”

“How bad is it?” Draco asked.

“Bad,” Pansy said flatly.

Draco unfolded the paper. There was a large photo of Harry and him walking through the muggle part of the station. Draco’s expression throughout the picture was- Draco knew it was worry, but it was a grimace that could be read as a scowl that could be seen as sinister or angry, then again his smiles were often called sinister, and his neutral expressions.

The Harry in the photo was smiling and looking at Draco the whole time, even bumping into someone because he wasn’t watching where he was going, and it made Draco’s heart ache to look at it.

Draco had to drag his eyes away from the photo, already tensed for the rest of the article. The headline read,  _Former Deatheater Grows Closer to Hero Harry Potter_ , which wasn’t a terrible headline on its own but Ms Dour was good at weaving truth with rumour and hearsay without technically stepping into slander. Draco wished she would, then he could sue her.

There was a smaller column on the left side of the front page headed by a picture of him from his trial, looking too pale and thin even for him, with deep shadows under his eyes as he stood before the wizengamot. Draco skimmed it when he realised it was just a rehash of his trail and participation in the war.

Another small column on the right, a mirror to the expose on him, was of Harry. The picture of Harry was from a memorial speech after the war, him and everyone around him dressed in mourning black, pain and grief etched into their expressions. And just like his, Harry’s column was about what he did in the war with a heavy emphasis on his struggles and loss.

Both were true but viciously inflammatory, they might as well have been labelled ‘good and right’ and ‘evil and wrong’. Draco swallowed hard and started on the main story running down the centre.

_Beloved Hero of the war Harry Potter was seen in the company of Draco Malfoy heading to the train station for the return trip of Hogwarts. Rumours have run Rampant since the Prophet first ran its article the unlikely pair of wizards-_

“Rumors you started,” Draco muttered.

_-Interviews conducted with several Anonymous sources say Potter and Malfoy’s relationship throughout their first six years of school was Mainly Antagonistic. The two were often seen Arguing and occasionally Fighting magically as well as Physically. These sources also agree that Malfoy was the Source of most of the verbal Hostility and was often seen to antagonise not only Potter but many other students. Malfoy was described as a Bully by several sources and Viscous by another._

Pansy leaned close, reading over his shoulder, “Where are you?”

Draco jabbed the paper.

“Ah,” Pansy said, “The vicious part was a bit much, you’re too squeamish to be vicious.”

- _In their sixth year, the two were put at further odds by their Allegiances in the war. It is well known that Malfoy the younger took the Dark Mark by that time and would eventually betray Hogwarts and lead to the death of beloved Hero and Headmaster Albus Dumbledore._

_Despite all this, Potter and Malfoy have been frequently seen in one another’s Company during their final school year. Sources say the two sit together in classes, pair up in potions, study together in the library and occasionally eat at the same table during meals. Their Relationship seems to have taken a complete 180 without any Indication of where this friendship could have ever have stemmed from._

_It did not escape this reporter’s notice that Harry Potter’s presence at the train station was quite Unusual. All students returning for their seventh year to complete their NEWTs are allowed to floo or apparate to the school. The only student Unable to do this is Malfoy, who had his apparition licence Revoked and has no floo access at his home while his mother, Narcissa Malfoy, serves her commuted Sentence of three years house arrest. By all appearances, Potter took the train Solely to accompany Malfoy back to school._

“She just had to bring my mother into it,” Draco muttered.

“Of course she did,” Pansy said.

_-To get to the bottom of this most perplexing Mystery, this reporter attempted to interview Mr Potter at the station.His very first statement was in defence of Draco Malfoy. He said that the paper’s previous story on the two of them was Unfounded and stated Malfoy was not a Death Eater, despite the clear Evidence that he was among their ranks and even referenced Malfoy taking the mark Himself._

Draco muffled a groan of frustration.

“Did Potter really say you weren’t a death eater?” Pansy asked, raising an eyebrow.

“In reference to my being a death eater now,” Draco shook his head, “but… it was only implied by the context so-”

“So Dour spun it to make Potter sound deluded.”

Draco nodded.

- _Potter was visibly Agitated as I established his and Malfoy’s history. Upon asking why he was now spending time with Malfoy, Potter’ hesitation was quite Marked before he said that they were friends. Raising Legitimate concerns about Draco Malfoy’s past and being the son of notorious Blood Supremacist and Death Eater Lucius Malfoy resulted in an even more heated defence of the younger Malfoy without any consideration for such Reasonable concerns._

“She made him angry,” Pansy said.

“Very.”

Pansy shook her head, “Doesn’t he know anything about how the Prophet works?”

“No. But it’s not as if Dour plays by any of the old rules anyway,” Draco said.

- _Malfoy was Silent throughout the interview with Harry Potter. When specifically asked for a statement Malfoy’s reply was stiffly formal and reminded this reporter quite Starkly of another Malfoy sent to Azkaban not long ago: ‘Harry has been very kind to accept me after our fraught history. We’ve worked very hard to understand and forgive one another after everything that happened in our past.’ and a fraught history it was, yet they seem to stand as friends now.._.

Draco folded newspaper up and tossed it back to Pansy.

“There was more,” Pansy said.

Draco put his head in his hands and rubbed his temples, “Let me guess, Dour’s sources talking about how they never saw us together, and how I haven’t changed, and how I’m ever so good at potions or dark magic, and basically doing everything but directly saying I’ve used magic to control their precious Harry Potter.”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Pansy said, “What are you going to do?”

“Avoid him in public until this nonsense dies down and hope that it actually does die down,” Draco said.

Pansy slid the newspaper into her bag, “What about the paper?”

“Merlin, fuck them all.”

Pansy smirked faintly, “I mean could you bribe someone? Your father used to.”

“I think that story would be more valuable to the paper than any amount of money I could offer,” Draco said.

“Hmmm,” Pansy tapped her chin, “You could buy them? Maybe?”

“Buy the Prophet?”

“You’re rich,” Pansy said.

Draco stared at her.

“Well, you are,” she said stubbornly.

“It would take far too long. Do you know how much paperwork is involved with that sort of thing?”

“Do you?” Pansy asked with a knowing grin.

“Well no,” Draco sniffed, “but I’m certain it’s quite a lot.”

Across the hall voices were rising in an argument, an argument that stopped abruptly when Harry stood up from his table and stormed his way over to the Slytherin table, dropping into the seat across from Draco with a scowl.

“Go away,” Draco hissed.

“No,” Harry said.

“You’re going to make everything worse,” Pansy whispered an undercurrent of urgency in her voice.

“I’m going to sit with you and go to class with you and be your friend until everyone gets over themselves,” Harry said. Stupid and stubborn as always.

“They’re not just going to  _get over themselves,_ ” Draco said.

“I’m not going to avoid you just because of the stupid fucking paper,” Harry said, “It’s not going to stop them and-”

Draco said, “It will stop them because they won’t have anything to write a-”

“-AND I’m done with people telling me how to live my life!” Harry snapped.

The room was far too quiet, and Draco was intensely aware of how many people were listening in, how many potential informants could be listening in.

“This isn’t about just your life,” Pansy said quietly.

“If you ignore them they just make up whatever they want, they don’t stop,” Harry said, “It’s not exactly my first time dealing with these arseholes.”

Harry went to grab a tray of sausages, Draco pulled it out of reach.

“You weren’t on the wrong side of the war,” Draco said under his breath.

“Oh yes, the Prophet calling me deranged and dangerous was great fun,” Harry said with a glare.

Harry reached for the tea, Pansy quickly grabbed the pot and moved it away.

“Not the same,” Draco said, “Just go.”

Harry stared at him. His hand darted out to the tray of toast, but Draco had been waiting for him to try, grabbing the edge and pulling- as Harry pulled the other side and sent toast skittering across the table. The tray slipped out of Harry’s hand, knocking a jug of pumpkin juice over and sent them both bolting up from the table to avoid being soaked.

The tray fell out of Draco’s hand when the first stinging hex hit, another hit his thigh, he stumbled, banging into the edge of the table as pain shot through his side. An incomplete  _incarcerous_  tangled Draco’s legs in thin cord before he could catch himself and he fell-

Harry caught him, cushioning him from the floor with his own body as he shouted, “ _Protego_!” a shield forming over their heads, two more spells flew past where Draco had been standing, another ricocheted off the shield up into the rafters.

“ _SILENCIO!_ ” McGonagall’s voice boomed over them, “WANDS DOWN! NOW!” Boots thundering around the head table and down the risers. She dispelled the silencio with a furious flick of her wand, “No one is to move! Stay where you are!”

Pumpkin juice dripped onto the stone floor.

“Let go of me,” Draco pushed Harry’s arm away.

“Draco-! Are you hurt?” Harry asked, breathing hard, trying to pull Draco back, to keep him close.

Draco kicked off the ropes around his legs, stumbling to his feet, “If I am, it’s your fault.”

“How was that my fault?” Harry asked quickly pushing himself up.

Draco shook his head, backing closer to the wall and wanting to draw his wand, even though he knew it would be more dangerous if he did. He despised feeling powerless.

McGonagall walked over stopping beside Harry, “Are you alright, Mr Malfoy?”

“Stinging hexes, an incarcerous, otherwise I’m-” Draco winced as pain lanced through his side. He pressed his hand over his hip, his fingers came back smeared with blood, and he felt a breathless moment of panic.

Harry sucked in a startled breath and went positively ashen.

“Is it deep?” McGonagall asked.

Draco pushed his robes out of the way, his panic fading. The cut had skimmed his side, long but shallow. “It’s not deep,” he said, roughly wiping his hand off on his trousers.

“Luckily,” McGonagall said. She aimed her wand at his side- “ _Vulnera medicari,_ ” -healing the cut easily, leaving behind only Draco’s ruined uniform.

Harry stepped closer, reaching out to him, “Draco-”

The bench behind them fell over as Pansy crawled out from under the table. Tears streaked down her face as she ran to Draco, wrapping her arms around him with a muffled, “I’m sorry-”

Draco could feel her trembling and hugged her back tightly, “Are you okay? What happened?”

Pansy roughly wiped her eyes, smearing her mascara, “I always thought if we hadn’t been locked in the dungeons during the battle that I would’ve fought. I thought-” she roughly wiped her face again, her voice shaking, “But I was so scared.”

Draco squeezed Pansy even tighter, “That’s alright-”

“I should’ve helped. I should’ve-”

“There’s no-” Draco stumbled over his words, feeling inexplicitly swallowed by despair “-no one should have to learn to fight like that. No soldier is ever made without a cost.”

Draco smoothed Pansy’s hair looking around the room. Pansy wasn’t the only one to have hidden, many other students had ducked under and behind the tables. Some had run for the doors, and to the dark edges of the room, quite a few students were crying, a ravenclaw boy was gasping through a panic attack. A slytherin girl was pale as paint, still frozen from fear.

McGonagall stood at the front of the room as still and unmoved as a stone in a turbulent current, “All students will have their wands examined by a teacher before leaving the hall. Any minor jinxes or hexes cast in the last hour will lose ten points to their house and receive one evening detention,” she said, her tone somehow comforting in its stern detachment. “More dangerous spells will be dealt with accordingly.”

McGonagall looked back at the head table, the professors already moving towards the doors with nods to the Headmistress though they said nothing, all looked grim.

“The war is over. I can understand that it may not always seem so, but I won’t have fighting, bullying, revenge or cruelty in Hogwarts, especially over baseless rumours and nonsense.

“I would not have invited Draco Malfoy back to finish his schooling if I had even a single doubt about his character or intentions. Both when he started classes and now,” McGonagall said. She took a deep breath and let it out in a great heaving sigh, “All morning classes are cancelled for the day. Visit Madam Pomfrey if you require a calming draught or a dreamless sleep.”

McGonagall waited until the students began moving again, some to the doors where the teachers waited, others to finish their interrupted breakfast, to beckon them, “Potter, Malfoy come with me.” She turned on her heel and marched into an empty side room.

Draco looked across the room and gently turned Pansy around, “Go to Jenna and Melanie.”

“Will you be alright?” Pansy asked, wavering on the balls of her feet.

Draco nodded, pulling a handkerchief out of his inside pocket and giving it to her, “I’ll be fine.”

Pansy took the cloth and blotted her eyes, weaving through the other students to her Hufflepuffs. Once Draco knew she was in safe hands, he made his way into the small room.

Harry stood at the far wall looking down at his hands and anxiously picked at his cuticles.

McGonagall closed the door behind him.

Draco twitched in surprise.

“What in the world were you thinking?” McGonagall scolded them, crossing the room to stand between them.

Draco silently shook his head.

“After a prophet article like that the two of you ought to have had more sense,” McGonagall said, “And starting a fight, of all things.”

“It wasn’t a fight,” Harry said.

McGonagall pursed her lips, “It doesn’t matter what it was. It  _looked_  like the start of a duel. You should not have gone to Draco’s table to begin with-” she chastised Harry. McGonagall turned to Draco, “-but if one of you had just left rather than quarrelling over food. Pulling plates and trays away-”

“I understand,” Draco said, staring at where the line of a large rug met the stone floor.

“The two of you fighting is not worth the headache, so make up now if you please.” McGonagall waved a dismissive hand at them, “I doubt whatever your fighting about is worth all this.”

Draco looked down at his hand and rubbed the promise string on his pinky, “I can’t…” he frowned.

Harry stared back, studying Draco’s expression.

McGonagall shook her head and sighed, “You started the fight, so I’m going to take twenty points from Sly-”

“Wait,” Draco interrupted, “Not points, please Headmistress. I’d rather have detention if possible. My house doesn’t- It’s not their fault.”

“I suppose…” McGonagall mused.

“But he didn’t do anything!” Harry said with a frown, “I was the one that went to his table! I refused to leave! It was my fault, not Draco’s! He shouldn’t have detention  _or_  points taken away!”

McGonagall raised her eyebrows.

“Before break I stood on a table and threw bloody muffins at him! And all we had was a lecture. Now he’s been hurt, and you’re going to give him detention-”

“Mr Potter-”

“It’s not fair, were you going to punish me as well-?!”

“Harry,” McGonagall said sternly, cutting off his tirade, “You’re entirely correct.”

“I- Yeah?” Harry said suspiciously.

McGonagall nodded, “I should’ve punished you both last time and then maybe you’d have learned your lesson, not likely but stranger things have happened…” She crossed her arms in thought.

Draco took the opportunity to shoot Harry a glare.

“What?” Harry asked.

“You were always good at playing the hero,” Draco said bitterly.

“Draco-”

“One-week detention,” McGonagall said, “for both of you.”

They both stopped and turned to her in surprise.

“A week?” Harry said.

“To make up for being so lax previously,” McGonagall said, “I can’t be seen playing favourites now can I? You’ll be serving detention with me. Harry wait by the gargoyle at the base of my office at eight this evening.”

“Tonight?” Harry said.

“Yes, tonight. Don’t be late.” McGonagall shooed him with her hand. “That’s all. Go on.”

Harry hesitated, looking from McGonagall to Draco before trudging out of the room.

“Headmistress, I- I have to start brewing tonight,” Draco said.

McGonagall raised one eyebrow and said with disinterest, “I expect you in my office at seven. The password is Macpherson.”

  
  



	33. Chapter 33

Draco made his way out of the hall as quickly as possible, easily avoiding Harry who was surrounded by his friends. He went straight back to the Slytherin dorm and collapsed on his bed. He allowed himself to briefly indulge in the idea of wallowing in despair before dragging himself to his desk to write his mother a quick letter and assure her everything was fine. Newspapers were her only link to the outside world, and he knew the Prophet’s nonsense would have her fretting.

He was nearly finished when Pansy came in and sat on his bed with a huff. She didn’t interrupt him, flipping through a magazine as he finished writing.

“I’ll get lunch while you mail that?” Pansy suggested as he pressed his seal to the letter and wove a few magical protections into the cooling wax so only his kin could open it.

“You don’t have to,” Draco said.

Pansy shrugged, “It will be nice to eat here, away from all the noise.”

Draco wanted to complain but gave up immediately. He retrieved his jacket and took the long way to the owlery to avoid as many people as possible. That became more difficult as the went up the tower stairs, quite a few other students were coming and going from sending their own letters. They all gave him a wide berth, one first year actually broke into a run when they saw him.

Pansy had sandwiches and a ginger beer when he came back, there was also water, but the ginger beer was for him.

They set up a picnic on the mattress of one of the empty beds and Pansy showed him the stack muggle magazines Jenna and Melanie had lent her. They flipped through them, talking about the stupid articles and strange fashions. Most of them didn’t actually look good on the models. He suspected it was like the top robe designers in europe; a top designer made it, it was expensive and exclusive therefore it was avant-garde, so everyone pretended that it wasn’t as ugly as a pile of shite. The article Pansy was most interested in was about nails, unsurprisingly.

“Nail art,” Pansy said, “I mean it seems obvious, you’re painting the nails, why not decorate them like a painting?” She smoothed her fingers over a picture of a tiny daisy frozen in the act of being painted onto a pale blue nail. “I wonder what sort of detail I could manage with a few charms? Or even… the charms they use to make paintings move…”

“As long as you don’t bring them to life,” Draco said, “That could be a bit grim.”

Pansy gave him a look, “Those are insanely complicated and far too difficult to do on  _accident_.”

“ If you’re not drunk,” Draco said.

Pansy smacked his arm.

“No, but really, can you draw?” Draco asked, “I’ve never even seen you doodle.”

Pansy deepened her pout, “Arsehole.”

“It’s true,” Draco shrugged and flipped to a full page spread of face washes.

“Okay.” Pansy sat up and summoned her makeup bag, dumping it all onto the bed, sorting through the mess and finding every bottle of nail lacquer.

“What are you doing?” Draco asked suspiciously.

Pansy shoved the pile to the side, “Experimenting.” She took her wand out, “Hands please.”

Draco sighed and reluctantly held his hands out.

Pansy took off the illusion magic, so his blue nails were once more visible to the world. She murmured a few spells over his hands, her brow furrowing as she went until she leaned back with a frustrated frown, “I need to see the memory of when I cast this charm.”

“So you can take it off?”

“So I can use it for my own nails. You don’t even need protection charms, I wonder how long these would last without chipping,” She scratched her own nail over Draco’s without any effect.

Draco repeated slowly with emphasis, “So you can take it off?” 

Pansy rolled her eyes, “I suppose.”

“Can’t you just paint on top of it?” Draco asked.

Pansy looked at the bottles she had on her and at his nails, “If the colour was darker I could do stars…”

“Stars?” Draco grinned faintly.

“I might as well start with something easy. I just want to see if I can do it.”

The bell rang for the first classes after lunch. Pansy and Draco looked at each other, and both said, “Skip?’ and nodded,“Skip.”

Pansy took his hands again and cast another charm, this one actually worked and darkened the colour on his nails to a midnight blue colour. She picked up the bottle of white varnish and shook it. Draco held out one hand and flipped through the magazine with the other. He huffed a sigh when Pansy took that hand as well. Draco watched her apply tiny white dots with the tip of her tongue sticking out in concentration.

“So...you seem okay...” Pansy ventured.

Draco shrugged one shoulder.

“Even though you were hit by a severing charm?” Pansy asked, managing to keep her voice admirably level.

“Grazed really.”

“I didn’t even notice,” Pansy said. She had to stop painting until her hand stopped shaking. She laughed rather weakly, “Just a few years ago a cut like that would have you howling for weeks.”

Draco hummed under his breath, “Back then people might have felt bad for me.”

“Who did it?”

Draco shrugged again, “I didn’t see. I thought I’d just bruised side against the table.”

Pansy dipped the little applicator brush into the bottle, “How are you so calm?”

“It’s less calm and more numb,” Draco said with a sigh, “I feel a bit like I’m standing behind myself like none of it really happened to me.”

Pansy looked up at him with a frown.

Draco shook his head, “It’ll probably wear off just in time to give me nightmares.”

Pansy looked back down at his nails. She conjured a small paintbrush with only a few bristles and then one with only one bristle, vanishing about every other dot she placed, white paint staining her fingertips and cuticles unnoticed as she worked.

“What are you going to do tomorrow?”

Draco looked up at the ceiling and then back down at his hands, “I might try a mild notice-me-not spell out in the halls-”

“Sixth and seventh years will be able to tell you’re using it,” Pansy said.

Draco nodded, “I’m willing to take that risk. And I’ll sit in the back during class and eat in the kitchens. What I can do is fairly limited by how stupid Potter decides to be.”

“Back to Potter, are we?”

“Yes,” Draco muttered, “He’s seriously so fucking-” he sighed.

“So at least this whole Potter relationship is over then?”

“Over?” Draco frowned, the idea- he just- “No?” he said faintly.

A droplet of paint dripped off Pansy’s brush and fell onto her stocking

Draco shook his head, “It’s not over. Not until he says it’s over.”

“Are you kidding me?” Pansy said, “After this morning? After he got you  _attacked_? After he’s made everything worse for you and now you have to live with it for the rest of the year?”

“ When you say it like that it sounds a bit-”

“When I-! Draco, he’s fucking intolerable!” Pansy snapped, “Why in the world would you want to stay in any sort of relationship with him?!”

“Because I want him,” Draco said.

Pansy stared at him.

Draco repeated, “I want him.”

“You- You greedy, selfish bitch, you’re not a kid anymore!” Pansy said in frustration.

“No… I’m not,” Draco said with growing certainty, “This isn’t me begging for a crup for months only to lose interest in it after two days. I want to be with him.”

“He hasn’t just hurt your feelings, he got you physically hurt!”

Draco said, “I told you from the beginning it was the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. You think I’d give up even a sliver of a relationship with him just because he’s being stupid? He spent six years being stupid. I never expected him to suddenly develop intelligence and forethought.”

“Fucking fuck of all fucks,” Pansy shook her head, “Here. What are you getting out of this beside a bit of a secret snog every now and then? Potter hasn’t apologised for mutilating you in sixth year, he hasn’t told you he likes you, he hasn’t said you’re dating or exclusive. What makes it worth all this?”

“This is a bit of turn,” Draco said, “You were supportive last night.”

“That was before this morning. Now answer the question because I’m starting to think you need to see a mind healer on account of being delusional.”

“He helped me with the wolfsbane, he’s quite a good kisser-”

Pansy narrowed her eyes.

“-he held my hand, and he’s told me some of his worries and some of his secrets, and I’ve told him some of mine, and he’s trusted me when he really shouldn’t have.” Draco started to lift his hands to fuss with his hair and pressed them firmly back onto the mattress, “It’s not perfect, but I’ve liked being with him far far more than I’ve disliked the things he’s done. And I never thought it would be easy.”

Pansy groaned and squeezed her eyes shut.

“And it will be excellent for blackmail in the future.”

Pansy snorted, nearly choked, coughed, and laughed and laugh until her whole face turned red as a tomato, “You arse-!”

Draco smiled faintly, “I’ve thought about what you said last night, and I’m certainly not going to talk to him until he puts a bit of effort in.”

“A lot,” Pansy said faintly, bracing her hands on the mattress to try and catch her breath. “A lot of effort.” She took a deep breath and sat a little bit straighter, “Fine. I won’t murder him but only because you’re more annoying when you’re mad at me than when you’re depressed.”

“I’m not annoying.”

Pansy snorted.

“I’m a treasure.”

Pansy laughed and rubbed her cheek, leaving a faint white smear of paint. She gestured at his hands, “What do you think?”

Draco looked at his nails, the little white spots could have been stars, they were clean and well spaced and interestingly grouped like star clusters and nebulae. It was excellent for a first try. Draco wasn’t surprised. Pansy didn’t care about much, but the things she did care about she put a hundred percent of her effort into.

“Could you make them sparkle as well?” Draco asked.

Pansy’s eyes lit up, and she summoned her massive advanced charm theory book, flipping through page after page of lighting spells.

“Can’t you just pick one?” Draco asked.

“No.” Pansy said flatly.

“Can you charm them dry so I can at least look at a magazine?” Draco asked.

Pansy pretended not to hear him.

Draco slumped onto his side.

“Don’t smear them.”

“I’m not,” Draco whined.

“Here,” Pansy murmured a series of charms over his hands but Draco didn’t move until she nudged him with her foot, “Look, you.”

Draco held his hands up and smiled at the tiny glittery shining stars on his nails, “Perfect.”

“I’ll get even better,” Pansy said. She swirled her wand, “Here, I’ll put an illusion over them again.”

“No,” Draco said, rolling out of reach.

“But you said-”

“It can’t get much worse,” Draco said, “I like them. I want to see them.”

“Really?” Pansy said with a hesitant smile.

Draco nodded, “They’re divine, Pans.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Macpherson.”

The gargoyle guarding the headmistress’ tower jumped aside, allowing Draco to step onto the moving staircase. Draco clutched his bag to his side, he wasn’t sure what McGonagall would want him to do but assumed it would be something academic rather than menial labour, detention with Fitch was what you got if you were going to scrub toilets or flagstones.

He stepped off the stairs into McGonagall’s office, looking around curiously. There were bookshelves filled with ancient tomes he would have loved to peruse. Displayed on top of the bookshelves were what looked like old quidditch memorabilia and collectables along with a few more recent pieces. The house cup had been moved to the office rather than the dusty trophy room along with a few framed photos of past Gryffindor house teams.

The wall behind the Headmistress’ desk was crowded with portraits. The large centre portrait right behind the chair was currently empty, many other portraits were either empty, or its occupant was sleeping.

“Take a seat, Mr Malfoy,” McGonagall said, gesturing to the chair in front of her desk.

The stiff old leather and wood creaked loudly as Draco sat down.

“Tea?” McGonagall offered, floating a delicate china cup in front of him and filling it without waiting for his response. The small tea service on the corner of the desk, jingled as it shifted minutely, drawing his attention to it.

“Thank you,” Draco said politely, adding milk and sugar to his cup and stirring it very carefully so that he didn’t touch the sides or scrape the bottom.

McGonagall picked up a cup of her own and leaned back in her chair, “Poppy says I should switch to herbal and fruit teas after dinner, but I can’t abide them.”

“Headmistress-”

“Professor is fine,” McGonagall, “Headmistress is quite a mouthful.”

“Professor, then, what do you want me to do? For… for my detention?”

McGonagall gave him a flat look over her cup, “Would you like to do something?”

“Not necessarily,” Draco said.

McGonagall nodded and took another sip of tea, “There will be plenty for you to do later. But now, we’re due a proper conversation.”

“Are we?” Draco asked, feeling nervous.

“This summer, I was quite surprised to receive that letter of yours, asking me to verify the quality of your potions so that you could donate them.”

“…I apologise if I took up your time,” Draco said.

“I had time, even if I did have to brush up on potions for the first time in decades, I simply couldn’t quite imagine why you asked me of all people,” McGonagall said, “Surely there are others that are better qualified or better known-”

“Better known than the Headmistress of Hogwarts?” Draco asked.

McGonagall raised an eyebrow, “You know what I mean, young man.”

“Well…” Draco picked up his cup, “You convinced the aurors to give me house arrest instead of sending me to azkanban and testified at my trial.”

“I gave testimony for all of my students who were charged after the war.”

Draco stared at the milky tea, “You were fair. You didn’t have to be.”

“I simply spoke the truth,” McGonagall said.

“The truth can sound quite damning depending on how it’s said or twisted. Dour is proof enough of that.”

McGonagall sighed and nodded, “Yes. That is unfortunate.”

“Thank you for that and for verifying my-”

“You already thanked me in your letter,” McGonagall said.

“Some things are best said in person. It meant a great deal.”

McGonagall refilled her cup, “They were exceptionally high-quality potions.”

Draco nodded, “It was more that you trusted me to brew them well. I don’t get much trust these days, I’ve come to value it very highly.”

“Would you care for a biscuit?”

Draco looked up, “What?”

McGonagall gestured to a plate, “A biscuit, Mr Malfoy. We must keep our strength up.”

Draco took a chocolate-chip biscuit.

“I also had to wonder why you decided to undertake such a task,” McGonagall said.

“…I was bored,” Draco said, taking a small bite of the biscuit.

“You were confined to your home before your trial without a wand.”

Draco nodded.

“And?” McGonagall prompted, “boredom hardly seems a good enough reason to put in so much effort, especially for you.”

Draco’s cup wavered and nearly spilt onto his trousers, he quickly set it back in its saucer.

McGonagall waited.

Draco took a deep breath, “…Boredom was part of it but I… I also wanted revenge-”

“Revenge?” McGonagall raised an eyebrow.

“On the people that ruined my life, that stayed in my home and gave me nightmares. But I couldn’t. They were dead or in prison, and I’d never actually be able to- to-” he swallowed hard. “…So I decided to undo everything that they had worked towards. To ruin their fucked up idea of a ‘perfect world’ and put everything back just as it was.”

“Brewing potions while there were shortages, and providing free wolfsbane to Greyback’s victims-” McGonagall drifted off waiting expectantly.

“… There wasn’t much I could do without exposing my name…”

McGonagall set her cup back in its saucer and folded her hands together on the desk.

Draco shifted nervously in his seat, “…and no interest loans to businesses that couldn’t afford to re-open after the war.”

“Revenge does sound about right,” McGonagall said.

Draco took a miserable bite of biscuit.

McGonagall shook her head, smiling faintly, “You should be proud of yourself.”

Draco looked up in shock, “But-”

“A person doing good for selfish reasons doesn’t change the fact that they’ve done good,” McGonagall said, “You’ve done a lot of good, Draco, and found a way to help yourself in process. There’s a lot to be said for that as well.”

“…Thank you,” Draco said quietly.

“You did all the work,” McGonagall said.

“Still, thank you.”

McGonagall smiled, “Your chocolate is melting.”

“Oh,” Draco quickly ate the last bite his biscuit and stuck his fingers in his mouth before remembering he ought to have used his wand to clean his hands.

“I prefer the ginger ones myself,” McGonagall said appearing not to notice. She selected one from the plate, “They’re quite nice dipped in tea.”

Draco nodded stiffly.

McGonagall picked up a piece of parchment from her desk, pushing her glasses down her nose to read it, “Do you know a …sixth year Hufflepuff, Pernella Liftwerp?”

“No. Should I?”

McGonagall dropped the parchment and pushed her glasses back up, “She was the student that cast the severing charm at you this morning.”

“…Did she say why?” Draco asked, internally bracing himself.

McGonagall shook her head, “She saw you and Harry arguing and when you both stood she said she was afraid you might hurt him and cast it without thinking.”

Draco nodded, “What’s going to happen- is she-?”

“Her punishment is twenty points from her house and two weeks detention with Poppy in the hospital wing. I hope it helps her understand how very dangerous magic can be when misapplied. Magic should never be used without thinking.” McGonagall sighed and shook her head.

Draco relaxed back into his chair, the wood creaking under him. It was the best sort of outcome he could have hoped for yet it still felt off somehow.

“I know, it's not ideal,” McGonagall said, echoing his thoughts, “I would have her, and likely half the students here, seeing a counsellor of some kind if I could. My requests for funding to have all been rejected.”

Draco frowned, “Rejected-”

“The Ministry has other priorities, I’m told. It seems they’ve learned nothing for the first war… or this one, I’m afraid.” McGonagall said. “Now, tell me how you go about brewing your wolfsbane.”

“Pardon?”

“Walk me through it, in detail,” she instructed.

Feeling a bit dizzy from the sudden turn in the conversation, Draco began mechanically explaining his brewing procedure, taking his notebook from his bag to show her his calculations. She took it from him, pushing her glasses down again, apparently still listening to him and flipping through his notes at the same time.

“Severus taught you well,” McGonagall said once he’d run out words, “He was your godfather, wasn’t he?”

Draco nodded, “Not that it meant anything to me when my father named him.”

McGonagall raised an eyebrow.

“During the first war, Severus had gained a lot of trust and power with Tom- uh V-Voldemort.”

“Call him Tom,” McGonagall said with an amused smile, “Voldemort was a stupid name.”

Draco grinned in relief, “Right. My father asked Severus to be my godfather to try and improve his standing with both him and Tom and use it to keep tabs on Severus at the same time… I suppose it was a way for Dumbledore to keep tabs on my father as well,” Draco said thoughtfully.

McGonagall tapped his notebook thoughtfully, “In order to maintain the same window of degradation, how would you change your calculations to brew… four hours earlier.”

Draco took a breath and hesitated as he realised where this was headed, “Is my detention is to brew the wolfsbane I would have brewed anyway?”

McGonagall tapped the notebook again, “Answer the question.”

Draco blinked, “There are… there are a few children who take the potion. I narrowed it down to that time frame so there would be the least amount of potion possible for them to have to drink.”

“The volume would increase by-?” McGonagall prompted flatly.

Draco went to protest again, took one look at the immovable expression on McGonagall’s face and reluctantly answered, “twenty- thirty millilitres at the most.”

“A swallow more then.”

“Approximately.”

McGonagall nodded and handed his book back, “I’m sure if they would be able to manage for just this one week. You can send along a letter if it worries you.” She nodded to the clock hanging on the wall beside them, “You have a half an hour to start revising your ingredient measures.”

“I’ll need more than a half an hour,” Draco said.

McGonagall picked up her tea and relaxed back into her chair, “You’ll have plenty of time to finish after we collect Harry.”

  
  



	34. Chapter 34

Harry was leaning against the wall outside McGonagall’s office and straightened up as they came down. “Professor, what are-” he spotted Draco and asked, “Wait, you’re already here?”

“Come along, we have a lot to accomplish,” McGonagall said, gesturing for him to follow them as she headed down into the dungeons.

“How long were you in her office?” Harry asked.

Draco ignored him.

“Draco-”

McGonagall stopped in front of the Slytherin entrance, “Go collect anything you might need for tonight.”

Draco hurried inside and grabbed his brewing case. When he came out, Harry was looking more frustrated than before.

“I could carry that for you?” Harry offered as they walked down the hall.

Draco shifted his brewing case to his far hand.

“Here we are,” McGonagall said opening up one of the main brewing rooms just a few doors down from the potions classroom, “Draco, you can finish your calculations and Harry can clean and prepare the room.” She turned to one of the brewing tables and stool, transfiguring them into a desk and chair quite similar to the one in her office. She sat, took out a small bag and from it, resized a stack of papers and a quill. She only bothered to look up when she realised neither of them had moved. “Go on, we haven’t got all night,” she said impatiently.

Harry’s brow furrowed.

Draco pulled out a stool and his notes, “We’re brewing wolfsbane. The full moon is in a week.”

“What? But… you would’ve done that anyway?” Harry said.

Draco gave him a look and went back to his calculations.

“Oh. So… right,” Harry said, his voice fading as he began casting cleaning spells over the room then getting two cauldrons washed and set up the scales. Draco wrote out the new ingredient measures on a piece of parchment as soon as he was certain they were accurate and passed them to Harry so he could begin preparing them. He finished in time to prepare the aconite himself.

Draco poured in the potion base and conjured the flame underneath.

“Can we talk?” Harry asked quietly.

“No,” Draco said flatly, watching for the first sign of a simmer.

Harry picked up the first ingredient, handing it to Draco, “What about after we finish?”

The no caught in his throat and he wavered. He wanted-

“Focus on your brewing, gentlemen,” McGonagall said without looking up from her own work, “This is detention, not a social call.”

“Yes, Professor,” Draco said, adding in the first ingredient and adjusting the heat.

Harry sighed and picked up the second ingredient.

They brewed together even better than they had before. Harry brewed the last potion, finishing it ten minutes after Draco’s. It was perfect, and Draco didn’t tell him. He wanted to.

“Excellent work,” McGonagall said, breaking through his thoughts.

Draco nodded as he sealed the last vial and slid it into the shipping box along with the others, reinforcing the cushioning charms out of habit more than necessity.

“Finish cleaning up, and that will be all for tonight, Harry. You can come straight here for tomorrows detention,” McGonagall said.

Harry looked from her to Draco, “But what about Draco?”

“I’ll walk with him to the owlery. It’s late, and after this morning it’s better not to tempt fate,” McGonagall said.

“But-”

McGonagall raised her eyebrows, “Yes?”

Harry straightened his shoulders and said, “I’d like to talk to him.”

McGonagall's expression didn’t change, “You may talk with Draco on your own time. It’s past ten, you are due in your own dorm.”

“Professor-”

“You heard me,” McGonagall said.

“…Fine,” Harry said. He looked at Draco, “Tomorrow? Alright?” he said hopefully before he stepped outside.

“Do you need to do anything else?” McGonagall asked.

Draco shook his head and closed and latched the top of his brewing case.

“You can leave that here,” McGonagall said, “No one else will be using this room for the week.”

Draco hesitated, then put the case under the table, covering it with a disillusionment spell. He followed her out of the room, through the narrow dark hallways and up the stairs to the main corridor.

“Professor?” Draco asked as they turned a corner., “Are you trying to keep Harry and I from talking?”

“You don’t seem terribly eager to talk with him yourself.”

Draco looked down at his feet.

They went up the stairs and turned down the hallway that would eventually lead to the owlery tower at the outer edge of the castle.

“…I should like to tell you a story about two students,” McGonagall said, “The first was pure blooded, rich, and happened to think quite a lot about themselves, let’s call them Student A. Student A met another student on the train. Student B was raised by muggles, already had a friend that Student A wasn’t very nice to, and most importantly, Student B did not think much of Student A.”

“Professor, is this necessary?” Draco asked.

McGonagall continued as if he hadn’t spoken, “Student A became a bit fixated on Student B, always seeking their attention, sometimes quite meanly. And not surprisingly, this did not endear Student B to Student A.”

Draco ducked his head feeling a flush of embarrassment rise to his cheeks.

“They called each other by their last names as well. Things changed in their sixth year, Student A realised that the life they had been born into was afforded them a privilege of not having to worry about war or ideas of purity and they made a choice to turn their back on the privilege and fight for every witch and wizard, regardless of blood or status-”

Draco’s brow furrowed, “Professor?”

“-And that change allowed Student A and B to get to know one another properly, to start dating, to marry as soon as they graduated and have a little boy they named Harry Potter.”

Draco stopped walking.

“James Potter and Lily Evans, Student A and Student B,” McGonagall said. She sighed, looking up the tower stairs, “We’re almost there.”

Draco followed her silently up the stairs.

“There are differences of course, but I couldn’t help noticing the similarities of your relationships,” McGonagall said. She stopped at the top of the stairs.

Draco called down his owls, putting the box of potions in its carry sling and holding up the loops for them to grab.

“That’s why you were keeping us from talking?” Draco asked as Castor and Pollux’s shadows melded into the darkness.

“I find that time is the best balm for cooling hot heads. I think Harry could use a little time,” McGonagall said, “I wasn’t expecting it but you seem to be keeping quite a level head.”

“Thank you?” Draco said, not agreeing in the slightest.

McGonagall rested her arms on the parapet, looking out into the night with a distant expression, “My goodness some of the fights James and Lily got in when they first got together. I rarely knew why they started, but I almost always saw the end.” She smiled to herself, “Once James transfigured Lily into a fox, and she got into his room and shredded most of his clothes before letting anyone turn her back. ...And when Lily charmed James’ hair yellow. He tried to take it off, and it turned his eyebrows and eyelashes yellow as well, for nearly two weeks.”

McGonagall shook her head and stepped away with a sigh, “Well, let’s get to bed. You have class in the morning.”

“I-Right,” Draco said.

“I’ll see you tomorrow in my office at the same time,” McGonagall added over her shoulder.

Draco paused for just second to take a deep breath and followed her down the stairs.

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Pansy?” Draco knocked on the eighth year girls dorm.

On the other side, he could hear Pansy and Daphne’s voices rise in a brief argument, cut short by Pansy jerking the door open as Daphne conjured curtain around her side of the room with a look that could kill.

Pansy put up her own opaque privacy shield and muffling charms, “What?”

“I need-” Draco stopped and held up his finger, “Okay, one: you’re not allowed to say I’m too much like my mother. And two: What if I’m too much like my mother?”

“So you can say it?” Pansy said.

“Yes. It’s different when it’s me, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Pansy rolled her eyes.

“Shut up. I need your help,” Draco said. “When my mother and father got in a fight she would give in to him within hours. If he brought her a rose from the garden, it could be over in twenty minutes. She once held out for three days but only because she left the country.”

“Has Potter been offering you roses?” Pansy asked, turning to her wardrobe.

“He wants to talk, and I almost said yes already,” Draco said, “I’m going to end up right back where I started and- you’ve missed a hook on your bra.”

“Get it then,” Pansy said, turning her back more towards him.

“Do I have to?”

Pansy shot him a look over her shoulder.

Draco sighed and fiddled with the tiny hook, ignoring Pansy sighing at him, finally managing to catch it.

“It would’ve been faster to redo it myself.”

“I don’t know why you expected any different. I’m not exactly drowning in a wealth of experience,” Draco said.

Pansy pulled on a blouse and quickly did up the buttons, “Are we talking about bras or relationships?”

“Ha.” Draco said flatly, “Just use a charm next time.”

“Remembering the correct charm first thing in the morning is far more difficult than just using my hands.”

Draco smirked, “Are we talking about bras or relationships?”

“Eww,” Pansy smacked him.

Draco laughed, “I was talking about masturbating, you’re the one that-”

“You’re a pervert, what did you think I was going to think you were thinking?” Pansy said shortly, grabbing the waistband of her pyjama bottoms.

Draco turned away, covering his eyes with his hand for good measure.

“You’re fine with seeing me mostly nude, but my bum is one step too far?” Pansy snarked.

“I have enough nightmares, thank you very much.”

“You’re such a cunt,” Pansy muttered.

Draco laughed. “So seeing my bum  _wouldn’t_  scar you for life?”

Pansy grimaced and shuddered, “Ugh, fine. I’m done by the way.” Pansy said

Draco turned back around.

Pansy zipped up her skirt and did the waistband clasp, “but you didn’t win.”

“I did so,” Draco said.

“Oh, and you’re far too much of a bitch to give into Potter like your mother did with your father,” Pansy said.

“I am not a-”

The privacy charms dissolved around them and Daphne sniffed at them, “ _Excuse me._ ”

Pansy rolled her eyes.

“You could have gone around,” Draco said flatly.

“It’s  _my_  room,” Daphne said, primly sliding her wand back into her robes.

“And walking six inches to the left would have been far too much of a strain,” Draco said sarcastically.

Daphne narrowed her eyes, “I don’t have to be nice to you any more. How about I tell Slughorn that you’ve been in the girl’s dorm,  _pervert_.”

“ I couldn’t come in if I wasn’t let in,” Draco rolled his eyes, “and since you’re apparently far too stupid to pick up on this; I’m  _gay_ , Daphne. I’d rather watch blast-end skrewts fuck than look at your mediocre tits.”

Daphne gasped, “How dare you!” She pulled her hand back to slap him.

Draco caught her wrist, “I’d say you should use your magic, but we both know your wandwork is as mediocre as the rest of you.”

Daphne’s eyes widened, and she jerked her hand away. She managed a glare as she stormed out of the room, slamming the door closed behind her.

“Draco-” Pansy said tentatively.

“What?” Draco asked, leaning back against the bedpost.

“You told her you were gay.”

Draco blinked. He hadn’t even realised. He waited for the wave of panic, the anxiety, the regret, but it never came. He actually felt quite a bit lighter, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

The only person he had really been worried about finding out he was gay was his mother. He shrugged, “I’ve done a lot worse than be gay. If someone’s going to hold that against me, they can get fucked.”

Pansy grinned and hugged him.

Draco patted her back, “Yes, yes. Now get your robes on.”

Pansy pulled a fresh set of robes over her shoulders, “As for your Potter problem, We’ll stick to public places and the dorm as much as possible. Eat in the kitchens if he’s in the hall and eat in the hall if he’s not there. I can probably keep him away from you for a little while.”

“Perfect-” Draco said,

Pansy went on, “Meanwhile you need to figure out exactly what you need from him by the end of the day, preferably in writing, so you don’t chicken out.”

Draco groaned.

“I’m buying you time, that’s what you wanted isn’t it?” Pansy said.

“….Yes,” Draco said begrudgingly.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The great hall was almost empty when Draco and Pansy finally showed. The serving trays vanished when they were half-way through their meal, sending them running to their first class. Draco and Pansy sat at the back of the room, Pansy taking the seat beside Draco. Harry sat with Granger and Weasley and aside from sneaking a look at Draco at the start, he kept to himself.

“I think Potter’s being a good boy,” Pansy said as they picked a bench in history of magic.

Draco sat beside the window, taking out his quill and parchment, “Perhaps.”

Pansy yawned and folded her arms under her head, making a valiant effort to keep her eyes open until the lecture started, “Well, as long as I don’t have to do anything.”

Longbottom dropped his bag on the desk on the other side of the aisle. It proceeded to slide off as soon as he turned around to ask Thomas something.

Draco flicked a levitation spell at the bag.

Longbottom turned back around, “O-oh!,” he snatched the straps and frowned as it floated up in his hands.

Draco released the spell and put his wand back on his desk.

“Did you knock my bag off my desk?” Longbottom asked stiffly.

Pansy snorted, “It fell off all on its own.”

“So…” Longbottom looked from his bag to them.

“Don’t look at me, I would have watched it hit the floor and laughed at you,” Pansy said.

Longbottom blinked and slowly sat down, still turned to face them. “…Thanks, for catching my bag?”

Draco nodded absent-mindedly, “How’s the fern? Did it transport well?”

“Um…yeah, well yes now. I didn’t have the atmospheric charms just right at first, but ,now it’s building up its roots quite nicely,” Longbottom said.

“Good,” Draco said.

“Did the ferns I split do alright?” Longbottom asked.

“They’re doing very well, five of them have started producing sap again.”

Longbottom looked relieved, “I’m glad. I would have felt awful if I had- they’re the only plants of their kind, so if anything happened to them it would be a tragedy.”

“You looked into it?” Draco asked.

Longbottom nodded, “I wasn’t able to do extensive research or anything, but it seems like no other ferns like them have been recorded-”

Pansy sighed loudly dramatically into her arms, “Nerds.”

Longbottom broke off and gave Pansy a look, “I didn’t know you were taking History of Magic.”

“It’s an easy NEWT,” Pansy said, “I usually only come to class to take the tests.”

“And you’re passing?” Longbottom asked.

“I study Draco’s notes, they’re a thousand times better than Binn’s boring ass lectures,” Pansy said. She smirked at his confused expression, “How do you think Greg and Vince even passed their OWLs?” she pointed at Draco.

“Shut up, Pans,” Draco said.

Taking that as encouragement, Pansy continued, “All of our year studied off Draco’s notes. Well, the ones with any sense did. He’s a good tutor too.”

Draco said, “Yes, well, if my friends failed it would reflect badly on me-”

“That sounds more like it,” Longbottom said.

“-and I didn’t want father saying I couldn’t spend time with them,” Draco said, frowning to himself, “No one else listened to my stories.”

“Oh,” Longbottom said

Draco did not want to talk about the past, especially Vince. Luckily, Binn’s floated through the door, and Draco could focus on writing down the lecture notes.

“Don’t forget to figure out what you want to say to Potter,” Pansy murmured from the crook of her elbow.

Draco winced, shaking the thought from his head and focusing on class. He could work on that during lunch.

He did not work on it during lunch. Or transfiguration. He very seriously intended to work on it during dinner but turned around halfway down the hall when he saw Harry waiting outside of the dining hall, towing Pansy after him.

“He’s following us,” Pansy said, looking over her shoulder, “He’s rather intense when he looks serious, isn’t he?”

“Pansy-”

“I’ll distract him,” Pansy said.

Draco squeezed her hand before letting her go, picking up his pace down the hall. He broke into a run as soon as he turned a corner and headed towards the kitchen.

He should have gone to his dorm, logically, but his mind didn’t seem to be using logic. The kitchens were safe. They had always been safe. In sixth and seventh year they had been the only place that was. There were no Slytherins to report on him in the kitchens, there were no Carrows, no disappointed, disproving professors, there were no students who hated him, no children that shied away, shivering with fear when he walked past.

As soon as he stepped inside and portrait closed behind him, Draco was filled with a feeling of utter relief, briefly. Pansy wouldn’t keep Harry long, and he had his dratted map so he could find Draco easy if he wanted.

Draco turned around, putting his hand on the portrait to push it back open when a hand gripped his robes.

“Mister Draco has come back to talk with Huddle Rowna?” Lulu asked.

Draco shook his head, “I can’t. I have to go.”

Lulu frowned at him, “It being very important. Huddle has been waiting. She is asking for you and waiting for you, and you are ignoring her.”

Draco froze when he heard footsteps running up, and Pansy’s muffled voice drifting through.

“-barmy! Draco went back to his room. He’s not here-!”

Draco mind was blank. He wasn’t ready.

Lulu tugged harder on his robe, “Huddle is most important elf, Huddle trusting you!”

Draco looked down. And he nodded. Because it was the easier thing to do.

“Good,” Lulu said, reaching up.

Draco let her take his hand. He saw the portrait open and Harry through the gap for just a moment before he was pulled away in the swirling tug of apparition.

He stumbled as he landed, and cracked his head on the low ceiling, wincing and ducking down, nearly in falling over a table that only went up to his knee but was longer than the tables in the great hall. It was lined with little chairs and stools all different, all made of different sort of wood, shaped in different ways. There were shelves on the stone walls all made with various sized boards, filled with knick-knacks, some broken things artfully repaired, others looking brand new and yet others, small, delicate and strange, and like nothing he had ever seen before.

Despite how odd and jumbled together everything was, it was all made with remarkable skill. The table was level and polished, the chairs looked comfortable and didn’t wobble. It all looked sturdy enough to last a hundred years.

Draco slowly knelt on the ground, rubbing the bump on his head.

“This way,” Lulu waved for him to come further down the long narrow room where there was a sitting area, a fireplace on either side was ringed with sitting chairs and couches and piled of cushions and blankets, all patched and quilted and made of different spare cloth and wood.

“Where am I? What is this place?” Draco asked.

“You is in our home. First human ever allowed inside. Huddle Rowna said to, you should be feeling honoured,” Lulu said.

Draco stared at her in disbelief, “This is-”

She nodded impatiently, “The Hogwarts croft, Mister Draco.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huddle : Like chief or mayor, huddle is the house elves name for their community leader.
> 
> Croft : believed to be derived from under croft, a croft is where the majority of house elves live. Crofts are typically located underground with no physical exits. They take advantage of wizarding family and general anti-apparition wards so as to only accessible via house elf apparition.


	35. Chapter 35

Lulu ran towards the sitting area, to the older elf sitting near the fire, “I’ve brought him, huddle Rowna! I gots him to come!”

Draco braced a hand on the ceiling as he shuffled after her, trying not to run into anything as he looked around.

Huddle Rowena stood up from her chair and swept her hand in front of her and the chairs in Draco’s way parted and skidded across the floor out of his way.

“Huddle Rowena,” Draco said, bowing his head, “I’m sorry to keeping you waiting.”

Rowena smiled ruefully, “I doubt that, Mister Malfoy.” She had two silvery cuffs on the tops of her large ears, one adorned with blue crystals and the other engraved with an intricate geometric pattern. A simpler silver cuff was clipped to the side of her ear. She was wearing what a first glance could have been mistaken for a pillowcase but was closer to a toga with a shift underneath a large piece of cloth draped over her head. It was held in place by a ribbon belt and a pin on her shoulder made from a large black fabric button sewn with black crystals and beads.

Rowena snapped her fingers, and one of the pillows on a nearby couch doubled in size, “Find comfort, we have much to speak to you about.”

Draco rearranged himself, sitting on the pillow, “How did you fare after the battle?”

“Much magic was lost in the damaging of the castle,” Rowena said, picking up a scuffed book filled with mismatched pieces of paper, “More in the rebuilding, it took so much.” Her ears dipped, “A child was lost, a weak boy, two mothers did not bear young. The magic is strong again with the young wizards return.”

“I’m sorry,” Draco said.

“Much is lost in battles,” Rowena said.

“It wasn’t your war,” Draco said.

“Never is with wizards. Elves suffer anyway,” Rowena said, “But maybe it does not have to be such.” She opened up the book and smoothing out an old piece of parchment, the copy of the house elf treaty of eleven hundred and four, “You gave us the old contract. So we know what was done, the deal that was made.”

“I don’t know how much it can help you,” Draco said.

“It helps greatly, Mister Malfoy. Before most elves thought this was our choice, our meant to be, a destiny. Now we know, we were weak and a deal was struck to make best use of us and us to survive.” Rowena flipped through a few pages to something written in large simple handwriting, like the careful penmanship of a child that hadn’t quite got the hang of writing. “Elves have always had stories of what was, but never written down.  Only I and my eldest write in our croft where learning is easy. Few others can, other Huddles sometimes, strange ones sometimes.”

Lulu sat in one of the chairs on the edge of the fire, hugging a pillow to her chest. A few other elves were standing behind the ring of chairs, watching Draco with nervous interest.

“What about reading?” Draco asked.

“Same,” Rowena said, “Since last we spoke, I have begun the work of collecting stories, writing them down.”

“That’s fantastic,” Draco said.

Rowena’s ears twitched, “Your questions found their answers already.”

“Yes, when I found the contract but I…” Draco hesitated, “…I’m curious about you- about house elves.”

“Why?” Rowena asked flatly.

“I grew up thinking-” Draco sighed and looked into the fire, “I was raised to treat house elves like things. And I know I’m not the only one. Most wizards take elves for granted but the more I learn about you, the more I see how unfairly you have been treated.” He looked around, “And the wonderful things you've made-”

“We are allowed the broken things, the lost things, the things left behind. We have made with what we are given,” Rowena said.

“But we tend to vanish broken damaged things.”

Rowena nodded, “Vanished things as well.”

Draco’s eyes widened, “You can find vanished things? Where do they go?”

“We have ways,” Rowena said, “That is not a conversation for now. Now we talk about stories and past times, yes?”

Draco nodded and remembering where and when he was, took out his watch. “I have detention at seven. And I haven’t eaten yet,” He said reluctantly.

“Lulu will get a plate!” Lulu said hopping to her feet.

“Thank you, Lulu,” Rowena said as Lulu apparated away. “Mister Malfoy, would you like to know some stories of the past?”

Draco nodded.

“There are stories of the old old forests, and I am thinking those are the first stories. After that, there are stories of the fair folk.”

“The fae? From before they closed the gates between our realms?” Draco said.

Rowena turned a page in her book, running her hand over of the writing with a pensive expression, “Mayhaps they were the ones to shape us elves. To give us magic to use and to make us slaves to it. Mayhaps we were made to serve them and their hungry courts and never able to run away.”

Draco said, “Some of our old legends suggest house elves might have been made by wizards. There was a terrible age of magic when many magical beings were created out of dark magic, like veela and kelpies…”

“Mayhaps,” Rowena said thoughtfully. She looked up from her book with a sigh, “You were made to treat elves like things, elves were made to serve, but we are not what we were made to be, yes? We deserve to be more than our making.”

Draco felt like all the air had been knocked from his lungs, “Yes,” he whispered.

Rowena turned back to the copy of the house elf contract, tapping it with one long finger, “This problem stops us, and I have not thought a way past.”

“That’s what you wanted to talk with me about,” Draco said.

Rowena nodded, looking more hesitant, “We can trade, information and stories, we can serve-” her ears drooped, “-we… would be willing to share most anything for better futures.”

“Serve-? No. You don’t- I don’t want that,” Draco said quickly, “I would like to learn from you but not as a price, as friends.”

Rowena nodded, “You are good for a wizard, you ask, you learn, you are friend to elves. After talking to Huddle Kipper, I am even more sure of it.”

“You’ve spoken with Kipper?” Draco said.

“He came to see some elves from your manor croft taken home here,” Rowena said, “He has told us of your kindness; time off for working elves, money to buy desired things, freedom to travel. Wizards never given freedom to travel before.”

“I should have done it sooner,” Draco said.

“You are young and learning,” Rowena said.

Lulu reappeared a plate heaped with food balanced on her head, “Lulu returns!”

Rowena sighed with a faint smile.

Draco took the plate. Lulu pulled a fork out of a pocket on the front of her smock and held it out.

“Can we destroy the contract?” Rowena asked.

“No,” Draco said, taking the fork “Or you could, but it wouldn’t change anything. I have another copy myself, and I suspect at least one was made for every major family that took in elves back then. I wouldn’t be surprised the ministry has a copy as well even if no one has seen it in hundreds of years.”

“If we ask for better contract?” Rowena asked.

“You’d be refused by a majority of wizard and all of the wizgamot, I suspect. A few more liberal-minded wizards like Granger would support you, but it wouldn’t be enough.”

Rowena’s ears fell, “Can we do nothing?”

Draco balanced the plate on his knee, “Well… there is one thing. I learnt about it a bit in the history of magic, the greengrocer’s revolt of 1724, wizarding producers and grocers were having trouble competing with muggle ones, so they got together and formed a guild and demanded protection from the ministry.”

Rowena’s brow furrowed, “Elves could form a guild?”

Draco nodded as he thought, “In order to negotiate, all elves must know what they want and ask for it together. You have more power if you’re unified.”

“Then wizards refuse anyway,” Rowena suggested knowingly.

Draco grimaced, “…if they refuse to renegotiate the terms of the contract then… you refuse to work?”

“Can’t,” Rowena firmly shook her head, “If elves refuse to work then wizards can send them away. No magic, elves grow weaker and weaker until they are dying.”

“But they can’t send you all away. Both Hogwarts and Ministry rely on elf labour. I’m fairly certain neither could function if you refused to work. And St. Mungo’s house elves do all the cleaning and cooking there as well,” Draco said.

“They can send away enough to hurt, to scare elves back to work,” Rowena said.

Draco frowned in thought, “You’d need a safe place to go if elves were freed. You could use the manor, it’s over five hundred years old with constant wizarding occupation there has to be some magic built up.”

“Enough?” Rowena asked.

“I don’t know,” Draco said. “I don’t know how much magic you need.”

Rowena looked thoughtful.

Lulu patted Draco’s knee, “Eat! Lulu brought food, you has to eat now.”

Draco sighed, “Why is everyone always telling me to eat?”

“You is too thin!” Lulu said cheerfully.

“I am not,” Draco muttered stabbing a piece of chicken sulkily.

“Hogwarts,” Rowena said, “When the young wizards are here there is magic enough for all elves of the land.”

Draco said, “That would be perfect. You could speak with the other huddles and create a list of demands, then quit working just as the student return in the fall.”

A murmur rose up around them. Draco looked around realising that nearly every chair and all the standing room behind him was occupied by elves listening to their conversation.

“Yes, I know,” Rowena agreed with the grumbled unrest. She told Draco, “Our croft too full, old wizard houses fell during the war and elves came here. We have no spaces left.”

Draco nodded slowly, chewing on his bottom lip, “…I think McGonagall, the headmistress, might help you. The castle has enough space.”

Rowena closed her book and set it to the side, “...I have much to think on and talk with other huddles to do. For now, we should be eating, yes?” She looked pointedly at the crowd, “Talk can be of nicer things until your seven o’clock.”

The elves around him began moving towards the long tables. The meal appeared on platters all along the tables and the food looked remarkably simialr to what had been served for lunch upstairs. 

“So that’s why there’s always far too much food at meal times,” Draco said with amusement.

Rowena smiled, “We find our ways.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


McGonagall was watching the hands of her heavy brass pocket-watch as Draco stepped off the stairs and crossed the room to her desk. She snapped closed it as Draco sat down, “You’re tardy, Mr Malfoy.”

“I'm sorry, Professor,” Draco said, “I was detained.”

McGonagall stared at him, “Well? You had best tell me what kept you.”

“I was meeting with Rowena, the house elf huddle leader,” Draco said.

McGonagall raised her eyebrows, “Huddle leader? The head of the house elves is Ras. I speak with him quite regularly.”

Draco blinked in confusion.

“Explain yourself,” McGonagall said.

Draco said hesitantly, “I'm not sure I should say...”

“Tell me anyway,” McGonagall said severely.

Draco said, “Ras… is the head of the worker elves, he’s like a butler, I suppose. He’s in charge of the castle management. Huddle Rowena is the leader of the entire Hogwarts elf community.”

“Really,” McGonagall threaded her hands together. “So, what I’ve gathered from what you said is that working elves are separate and different from another community of elves that lives in Hogwarts but that I have never seen.”

“The amount of elves working usually represents only a quarter or so of the size of the entire community. If the only elves in the country were the ones we saw working, house elves would be more inbred than most pureblood families.”

McGonagall blinked, “Fifty-two elves maintain the castle and work in the kitchens. Are you saying that another one hundred and fifty live… here? Somewhere?”

“Hogwarts supports close to three hundred elves now. They took in a lot of refugees when some of the old pureblood houses fell with the end of the war,” Draco said.

McGonagall sat back in her chair.

“House elves require magic to live like we need sunlight. They get weak and waste away without it, the young especially. So Hogwarts is ideal for them. The castle supports the largest community of house elves in the isles.”

“Where are they then?” McGonagall asked.

“Under the castle. It’s like a cellar but without any entrances,” Draco explained, “House elves can apparate through even the strongest anti-apparition wards.”

“How do they manage during the summer?” McGonagall asked flatly.

“The castle absorbs a lot of magic, they normally do just fine drawing from the stones.”

“Normally?”

Draco sighed, “Rowena said that a lot of magic was lost during the battle, I don’t know if enough of it will have built up by this summer. I asked, but Rowena wouldn’t tell me much. I don’t blame them, wizards haven’t done much to earn any sort of trust from them.”

“I have worked here for decades, and I was never aware there were more house elves than the ones working. Yet, I have never seen a house elf child nor have I seen any particularly elderly house elves around the castle. They would need a home and someone to care for them... ” McGonagall said pursed her lips. She took a deep breath, massaging her temple, “For now, you were ten minutes late so you can stay ten minutes long to make it up. We can talk more about elves at another time.”

Draco felt a stillness catch in the centre of himself, too loud in its silence. He couldn't tell if she believed him for not and he was far too afraid of the answer to ask.

“For tonight’s brewing, you normally brew six potions, two doses each, yes?” McGonagall said.

Draco nodded.

“Tonight you’ll be brewing four potions of three doses.”

“Wolfsbane is a very volatile potion. The more you brew of it the more likely a small mistake will cause it to explode,” Draco said.

“Volatile but not dangerous. If it explodes you'll only lose time so, best you don’t make any mistakes. It’s detention. It’s not meant to be fun,” McGonagall said, “You’ve wasted enough time as it is, and you need to recalculate your measures.”

Draco pulled his notebook out of his bag and started writing.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Harry looked up as they walked into the potions lab, knife frozen mid-dice, asphodel falling off the blade onto the work table.

Draco stared back.

“We haven’t got all night, gentlemen,” McGonagall said pointedly.

Draco hurried over to the table, taking out the new calculations and setting them in the centre of the table, “We have to brew three doses to every cauldron instead of just two, it will be far more volatile.”

“When the asphodel is added,” Harry said.

Draco nodded, “And the powdered bone although it’s a lot rarer for that to cause a bad reaction.”

“Okay,” Harry said. He wiped the knife off and set it aside, setting up the scales to the new weight.

Draco reached across the table, placing his hand over Harry’s.

Harry twitched and looked at him, eyes wide.

“…After,” Draco murmured.

Harry turned his hand, squeezing Draco’s and nodded.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Draco held his breath as he sprinkled the asphodel into the last potion of the night. They had ruined the first one when it exploded rather glurpily and left them smelling faintly of swamp forcing them to start over on it, but Draco was starting to get a feel for how to more precisely add ingredients now.

He moved the stirring rod in slow, careful circles, he nodded when it felt right, and Harry gently sprinkled in the bone as Draco continued to stir. They watched with apprehension, but after a few tentative green bubbles, the potion settled, allowing them to add the last and more dangerous final ingredients to finish it.

Draco didn’t allow himself to relax until he had dispelled the flames under the cauldron. The potion was the right colour and sludgy consistency, but Draco took a tiny sample to test anyway.

McGonagall’s chair creaked as she stood up, putting her parchment and quill away, “All finished then?”

Draco finished examining the hair sewn to the poppet and nodded, “Yes, that’s everything.”

“I’m going to retire for the evening.” McGonagall opened the door and was already outside when she said, “I trust you can finish up here on your own?” pulling the door shut behind her.

Draco looked over at Harry who was looking down at his hands, “I’ll err… just crack the door open, so the smell doesn’t build up.” he said, hurrying over to the door and easing it back open.

“I didn’t really have a chance to think about what I wanted to say, but I know one thing for certain.” Draco gripped the edge of the table, “I won’t apologise for what happened in the great hall or in the train. Because I didn’t do anything to apologise for.”

Harry slowly let go of the door handle.

Draco held his breath.

“….You’re right,” Harry said. “I’m sorry about the great hall. And- and the train I… panicked.”

Draco’s his grip on the table loosened.

Harry didn’t turn around. “Listen, I- when I was dating Ginny, when I was with her I could forget the war and everything, it was like being in a world with just the two of us, but she couldn’t be with me all the time, she had dreams and things she wanted to do and I was-”

“…Harry.”

Harry’s head dropped forward, his hair brushing against the door, “-I was like a weight around her neck, dragging her down. I don’t want to do that to you so-”

“Then don’t,” Draco said.

Harry spun around, “It’s not that simple!”

“It is so,” Draco countered, “I have no doubt that being with me makes you better, look at me,” he gestured to himself grandly, lifting his chin in profile. “So when we’re together you’re generally improved, and when you’re not, you can go back to being, you know, you.”

“ _You_ what?”

Draco shrugged, “You-you. I mean other than saving the world, you’re rather mediocre.”

Harry sighed at him, “I’m serious about this.”

“So am I. You sounded like you were trying to break up with me.”

“It’s just-”

“ _No._ ” Draco said, nearly stomping on the floor in frustration, “I don’t want to.”

“You can’t just refuse to break up! That’s not how it works!”

“I can too. And you obviously don’t want to either. So stop it and help me decant the last potions.”

Harry shuffled over and got his wand out, levitating the cauldron while Draco got the funnel under the first potion vial.

Draco could tell Harry was thinking and his frown meant he was headed in entirely the wrong direction.

“There’s something-” Harry said, focusing very intensely on the cauldron, “just let me tell you something first then you can decide.”

“You’re not going to change my mind,” Draco said.

Harry finished dividing the potion between the three vials, setting the cauldron down before he spoke, too nervous to look at Draco. “…I… I’ve never told anyone this…” he took a shaky breath, “when…. when I was growing up with the Dursley’s I kind of just lived from day to day. There really wasn’t anything to look forward to, so I just survived and- And then I came to Hogwarts, and every year there was a new mystery, and someone was trying to kill me or stop me, or I was trying to stop them…”

Draco sealed the vials one by one with melted wax.

Harry chewed his bottom lip, “…I feel like I’m always waiting for- for an attack that never comes. Everyone says the war is over, that I’m supposed to live a normal life, but I don’t know what normal  _is_  and…” he swallowed hard, “and every time I try and think about the future, I panic. It’s so big, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I can’t stand it. I’m left only being able to manage one day at a time all over again.”

Draco put the potions in the transport box and latched it closed before levitating the cauldron over to the sink. The other cauldron was still waiting to be washed, and Harry grabbed the scrub brushes, handing one to Draco. They cleaned them out side by side.

“Not that the days are bad, I enjoy spending time with Ron and Hermione and you but at night when I think about tomorrow I- merlin, I hate it,” Harry said quietly. “And on the train…”

“It’s not that I don’t know you care. I do know,” Draco said hurriedly, “I was just sca- I was worried, and I wanted to hear to hear you say it.”

“…I know,” Harry said.

Draco used an aguamenti to rinse the soap off.

Harry grabbed a towel from the back of the sink and did his best to dry Draco’s hands, “it just felt far too big to say then, it felt like a promise of forever and I couldn’t- I just couldn’t.”

“Just use a drying charm,” Draco said.

“Your sleeves are soaked,” Harry said, dropping the towel over the edge of the sink and taking out his wand. “You ought to push them up.”

“You’re not the only one afraid of things,” Draco said smoothing his hand over his left forearm.

“Oh…” Harry cast a drying charm over both of them. “The thing is… relationships are supposed to have a future, and it doesn’t feel right to be with you when I can’t even say how I feel because it feels too big.”

Draco took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “…Come on, let finish cleaning.”

Harry hesitated and then followed him back to the brewing tables.

They put everything back where it belonged, and cast a few more cleaning spells around to hopefully get rid of any potion splatters they might have missed.

“Will you walk me up to the owlery?” Draco asked.

“Should I get my invisibility cloak?”

Draco shook his head, picking up the box of potions in one hand and grabbing Harry’s hand with the other.

“Are you sur-”

“Yes.” Draco said impatiently, “Now stop talking I have a lot of thinking to do.”

Harry threaded their fingers together, holding on tightly as they walked out of the empty dungeons, through the halls and up the owlery tower in uneasy silence.

There was a biting chill in the air as they stepped into the owlery.

Draco shivered and called for his owls. “Take this to Kipper,” he told them, “You know the way.” He waited a beat, watching the two owls fly off before turning back to Harry,“…I’ve heard everything you had to say.”

“Yeah?” Harry said apprehensively.

“You’re doing it wrong,” Draco said with a huff.

“Doing what wrong?”

“Being selfish,” Draco said, “I’ve been selfish my whole life, and I can assure you that when you’re selfish, you’re supposed to get what you want.”

“I’m not being selfish,” Harry said.

“Seems selfish to me, you trying to decide our relationship all by yourself. Except that you’re not getting what you want and I’m not getting what I want so I’m having trouble seeing what the point is,” Draco said with growing annoyance.

Harry sighed, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I don’t want to hurt  _you_ ,” Draco said right back.

“You haven’t-”

“It was only luck you weren’t hit by a stray hex in the great hall,” Draco snapped.

“That wasn’t your fault,” Harry said firmly.

Draco rolled his eyes, “It  _was_. It was because I was a death eater and because I tried to kill our headmaster and nearly killed two other people, because I crucioed other students in seventh years when the Carrows told me to.”

Harry’s eyes widened.

“You didn’t know that part…” Draco crossed his arms over his chest, “Well, maybe we ought to call it off because I was such a horrible person.”

Harry shook his head, “That was-” he took a few hesitant steps closer, “it’s in the past, you’re not that person any more.”

Draco shrugged, “I don’t know, the past is as real as the future, isn’t it? If you can be haunted by the future, why am I not allowed to be haunted by the past?”

“Because…”

“Because you hurting me is worse than me hurting you?” Draco tsked, “Selfish again.” He frowned when Harry didn’t respond, “You don’t actually believe that?”

Harry glanced down at his feet, “…I’m used to it.”

“Well so am I? You want to turn this into a competition?” Draco jabbed a finger into Harry’s chest, “I’m always up for it, Potter. I may not have as much practice as you but two and a half years is a good start and I’m a fast study.”

“It’s not a competition,” Harry said quickly, “I just don’t want to hurt anyone I care about.”

“And you think I don’t feel the same way?!” Draco shoved him.

Harry grabbed his wrist, “It’s not-”

“What about if we were together and I barely slept and was always working and studying and forgot to eat and started to lose weight and became cruel, pushing you away even as I got weaker and sicker until I collapsed? That wouldn’t hurt you?” Draco tried to pull away, and Harry just moved with him.

“It hurt my mother. It hurt Pansy. I’ve hurt the people I loved,” Draco said, his voice wavering, “I know how it feels and how very much I don’t want to hurt them ever again, but I’m not going to push them away.”

“Draco…”

“I  _need_  them. I need them as much as they need me and I-” Draco pulled his hand free of Harry’s weakening grip, sliding it over his cheek. Harry's skin was cool, stubble prickling under Draco’s fingertips, “I might have exaggerated about you being mediocre, although I am entirely biased on the matter-”

Harry smiled faintly, putting his hand over Draco’s.

“Because you’re very clever, you can learn anything provided it actually interests you, you’re terribly attractive, and I care about you. I want to stay with you because I care about you.”

Harry hesitated, opening his mouth to say something and failing. He chewed on his poor bottom lip and tried again, “I- I want to…I...”

Draco put his hand over Harry’s mouth, “Let’s try this another way. How do you feel about me right now? I don’t care about forever, I don’t care about next week or even an hour for now. How do you feel about me right in this one moment?”

Harry pulled Draco’s hand away and gently kissed his palm, “right now… right now, my heart is beating so hard it hurts. I’m happy, and scared but in a good way, I think.”

Draco smiled.

“Is that-”

“Perfect,” Draco finished, leaning forward and kissing him. He pulled back and brushed his thumb over Harry’s lips, “and quit knawing on your lips.”

“I was nervous,” Harry said, “I thought-”

“Don’t. It makes me furious just thinking out about it. We’re not breaking up unless I say we are,” Draco said.

Harry opened his mouth to argue then stopped. “You’re sure?” he asked.

“Yes, you absolute fucking idiot,” Draco said.  

Harry grinned, “Even though I don’t know how to be in a relationship?”

“Nobody knows how to be in a relationship,” Draco said impatiently, “In any case,  _you_  have more experience with them than I do.”

“…I suppose I do. You seem so comfortable with everything, I keep forgetting.”

“It’s all about projecting confidence,” Draco said.

“I think there’s a word for that, it’s called bravado,” Harry said with the barest hint of cheek.

“You ought to know all about it then with your Gryffindor nonsense,” Draco said.

Harry smiled carefully, wrapping an arm around Draco’s waist and pulling him close, “Merlin, I’ve missed you. I know it’s only been two days but-”

“Two days too many considering how you used your time,” Draco sighed.

“Yeah…” Harry said thoughtfully. “I want to try… being better. Although I have a long way to go to catch up to you.”

“Being better as in health-wise or being a better person?” Draco asked.

“Both?”

“Are we counting everything we’ve done, because you’ve won a war and that’s-”

“Starting after the war,” Harry said. He thought for a moment and grinned “Want to make it a competition?”

“I have quite a head start,” Draco said.

“I’ll catch up in no time,” Harry said.

“Fat chance,” Draco said.

Harry stole another kiss, “We’ll see.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so very much for reading, I really appreciate it. I would love comments, if you like.


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